Evil Overlords, Drunken Parties and the Avengers
by heyitssnoviawinter
Summary: After a battle over an ancient artifact, the Avengers get sent to our dimension. Olivia Wilde is just a fangirling, UBER fan of the Avengers. Too bad they're not real. Until one day, they become real. Only problem is that they've been de-aged to teenagers and end up living with her until they figure out how to return to their dimension. (Stanner, Clintasha and Thorki later on)
1. Author's Note

_Author's Note: Where I Babble About Stuff No One Really Cares About_

Why hel_lo_ there!

First of all, thank you for checking out my fan-fiction! You have a good taste in what you choose to read, might I add. *winks, curtsies*

Okay, enough with the charming wit. Time to get down to the nitty gritty. This fic was originally posted on Wattpad (Can I do that? I think I can do that. Meh, I don't care) aaaand I'm posting it here too. Yippie.

1) This fic may take a little bit before it starts getting good (as most of my writing usually does :P), but trust me, I'm sure it'll be worth it! At least. . .I hope it'll be worth it to you.

2) In this fic, the Avengers are de-aged. Just physically, not mentally. Mentally they're still adults. Now, I know that, technically, if they were de-aged, some of them couldn't still be Avengers. Tony probably wouldn't need the arc reactor, Steve wouldn't have the serum inside of him, and I'm not too sure about Bruce but I think he would still. . .uhh. . .be able to turn into the. . . 'Other Guy'. But that's all that technical stuff, and we don't _need _technical stuff, do we? No, fan fiction is for fun! :D And alliteration is always amusing. ;)

Now that we've got that out of the way, let us begin our journey. So sit back, relax, and enjoy! But don't relax too much, y'know, 'cause then you might not feel like commenting and voting and reviewing because you're so relaxed so. . .uhh. . .yeah, just go on and read. Have fun, though.

:D


	2. Intro

**_Introduction: Where I Explain How It Happened Without Explaining How It Happened_**

"_No! Tony, the Abdnicore!"_

_"What?!"_

_Too late._

_Thunder suddenly boomed across the darkened night sky with such a force the very stars seemed to shake. White lightning split the sky in two in a flash. The ground rumbled and the air seemed to fizz around them._

_It was happening._

_"Oh dear God. . .he's opened it."_

_The air on the roof seemed to fold and condense in on itself, sucking like a vacuum but at the same time blowing like a tornado. It was an odd feeling, being pushed and pulled at the same time. _

_It was a feeling that only added to the adrenalin now pumping through their veins because something was wrong. Something was very, _very _wrong. Something that they might not ever be able to undo._

_"Hey, you guys never told me. . .!"_

_The rectangular, box shaped machine on the edge of the roof began to shake and convulse, stuck in its own mini seizure. It toppled from left to right and front to back. It moved so fast, it looked like nothing more than a grey blur._

_And once it started, there was nothing in the world that could stop it._

_"What!? We never told you what?!"_

_The box began to glow. It started slowly, emitting from somewhere deep inside the machine, a faint white glow that spread to every corner and surface of the box, making it shine as brightly as a car headlight. Soon it was glowing so brightly you had no choice but to look away from it. Still it shook and, still, there was no way to stop it._

_". . .What exactly happens when it opens?!"_

_The box exploded. It happened like a firework—loud, going off in all directions, and in some sort of way, kind of beautiful. The glowing white light, which had exploded to fill half of the roof, suddenly turned into a power vacuum, sucking into it everything that was near._

_The box had just emitted a portal which was now absorbing everything on the roof._

_The Avengers were on the roof._

_The potted plants, the benches, the tiny trees, everything was suddenly hurling through the air with surprisingly speed and sent flying into the portal, where it disappeared into the white light._

_"Well. . .we never told you. . .because we don't know."_

_One by one, Earth's mightiest heroes were sent flying into this portal, to an unknown time, an unknown place, an unknown land. The portal shut behind them. _

_The thunder was silent._

_The lightning stopped._

_The air was cool._

_The night was calm. . .and the Avengers were gone._


	3. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1: Where Olivia And Her Friends Talk. A Lot._**

"Look Emmy, you and I remember Budapest very differently."

"Liv, it wasn't Budapest. It was the mall."

"I know but—"

"Can you stop quoting the Avengers for two seconds?!"

". . .no."

Emmy threw her arms in the air in exasperation, pleading to the heavens with her blue dramatically huge. "Comic books and superheroes have taken my best friend from me," she pretended to plead. "All I ask is that you give her back!" I laughed, taking another huge sip of my lemonade. Who drinks lemonade in the middle of October? Why me, of course. Who eats shawarma? Me, again. And, apparently, out of all my friends, only me.

"Shawarma is _delicious_," I had said to Emmy once. She scrunched up her face in the way that means she is totally, utterly disgusted. And I raised my eyebrows at her in the way that meant I totally, utterly, did not care. "Sha. . .shaca. . .shower. . .shama. . ." she struggled with the word, which only made me wiggle my eyebrows at her. Struggling to stay serious, she spat out; "Sham-Wow tastes like dirt, okay? Let's just order pizza and call it a night."

I'm pretty sure Sham-Wow has nothing to do with shawarma.

She and I were dodging the rushing late night traffic of the sideways of Manhattan as we made our way to our best friend's diner. The Jones' owned a small, humble dinner that had somehow ended up smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. Let me just say that they got a lot of business; tourists apparently loved it there. There was nothing rarer than homemade apple pie in the middle of the tourist section of New York City.

Emmy looked kind of like a tourist herself. All she had to do was look up at the buildings, say "Wow!", and thieves would be trying to pickpocket her. I don't know, she just has that out-of-town air. After all, she just moved here two summers ago. Originally from California, Emmy has the tan, wavy dark brown hair with natural highlights and crystal clear blue eyes to prove it. Plus, she, most of the time, still dresses like a total California girl.

But me? I've got 'weird New Yorker' written all over me. Mix-matching clothes is my motto—I usually dress like a colorblind hobo, or so my friend Jonesy says. Geek glasses and beanie hats are as much of a must have as my purse. . .which also usually looks nothing like the rest of my outfit. As soon as my parents allow it, I'm going to die my hair Black Widow red. It's already just about as long as hers, but it's a dark brown, which _totally _contradicts usual continuity.

When we reached the Apple Diner, I could see that the windows that lined the front were glowing with warm, pale yellow lights. The _open _sign flashed brightly beside the door. Emmy wasted no time rushing up the flight of stairs to the landing. Well. If that wasn't _rude. _"Hey!" I called as I hurried to catch up. "Aren't you going to wait for me?" Emmy didn't even bother looking over her shoulder; she just flung open the glass door, and rushed inside. "Not if you're just going to be talking about the Avengers all night!" I barely caught her sentence before the door shut behind her.

I took my time up the stairs, chucking my soda in the trash bin before opening the glass door and reveling at the familiar sound of jiggling bells. Any other time the diner probably would have been full, but it was pretty late right now—plus, it was a Monday night. Lucky for Emmy and I, we were sleeping over at Jonesy's place.

"Ah, _there _you are," said a voice just as familiar as the bells. "I thought Emmy left you or something." I pretended to be mad, clenching my teeth and hissing; "She _did_." Our friend Jonesy was behind the counter, a greasy white apron wrapped around her as she paced back and forth in front of the counter, wasting energy. Emmy was already seated in front of the countertop of the diner, blinking at me innocently. "Who, _me_?" she faked innocence.

Jonesy folded her arms on the countertop, leaning forward with a huge grin of excitement. "Hey, did you guys hear?" she whispered. Emmy, a huge gossip girl, arched an eyebrow in interest. "No," she replied just as quietly. "What?" I'm not usually into gossip, but I know Jonesy a lot better than Emmy does. And, knowing Jonesy, her "gossip" is not what Emmy thinks.

I rush over, sliding into the red stool beside Emmy and depositing my purse on the countertop. "What's up?" I whispered. Jonesy's chocolate eyes switched between Emmy and I excitedly as her grin widened. "News says that a huge storm is coming up off the coast of Florida tomorrow," she whispered. "People say it came from _nowhere_—they don't even know how the hell it formed. And if you ask me, I think it's because of—"

With a roll of her eyes, Emmy moved back and away from our tight circle. "Oh for the love of God!" she groaned, slamming her hand down on the counter. I threw my head back with a laugh as Emmy glared at Jonesy, who looked just as excited as she was before Emmy had interrupted. "You know what it is," Jonesy whispered before mouthing; _Aliens_. Emmy pointed at Jonesy accusingly. "Between you and alien storms—" She turned the finger of blame to me. "And you and superheroes, I don't know who's worse."

Jonesy was into aliens as much as I was into Avengers. I think she infatuated with finding out that they actually exist. Me? I'm not sure how I feel about aliens, but I never deter her from her alien search. She almost likes aliens more than she likes sports.

And that girl really _loves _her sports. As much as Emmy loves the mall.

As far as I know, Jonesy plays basketball, soccer and baseball. Then she has swimming in the summer. She even told me a couple times that she'd sign up for football if she could. All these sports meant that she was naturally fit and had a nice tan, like Emmy, but her blonde hair was just a plain, wavy blonde.

But me? I didn't get tan. My skin just stayed bronze brown all year round, only a few shades darker brown than my eyes. My hair, however, was almost black—something I was grateful for. Before the Avengers took over my life, I had wanted to dye my hair black.

Pfft, not anymore! Hel_lo _Black Widow red!

I put my palms in the air in surrender, giving her a shrug. "Look, if the Avengers weren't as awesome as they are, we wouldn't have this problem." Emmy gave me a disapproving look, but Jonesy nodded. "Iron Man _is _pretty hot," she agreed. Jonesy only saw the movie, and sure she liked it, but she didn't like it as much as I did. Ask her if she knew Iron Man's name, she probably wouldn't have an answer for you.

One time I asked her. She said Robert. I figured it was close enough, so I let it slide. Plus, she reads all my Avengers fan fiction. And yes, it's slash fiction, and unlike Emmy, Jonesy likes it. Emmy set her purse on her lap and began digging through it. "Alright, here's a deal," she began. "Johanna Jones, if _you _can keep from your alien obsession, and Olivia Wilde, if _you _can keep from your Avengers obsession . . . you will each receive twenty-five dollars when this sleepover is over."

"DEAL." Jonesy and I chorused in almost the same exact excited tone—even though I wanted to explain that what I had was worse than an obsession, I belonged to a _fandom_. It wasn't that Emmy was the rich one in the group—we all had a lot of money to spare—it was just that she was the one who never had anything to spend her money on. She loved to shop, yeah, but she was a "sale shopper". She only shopped when there was a huge sale, so that was hardly ever. But when she shopped, she _splurged. _

Hell, I splurge every time I shop. Which is every weekend. But naturally, Emmy usually had at _least _a hundred dollars in her purse. I called her Stark a couple times, but I don't think she got the reference. (Ah! Two Avengers references in one sentence! :D)

Emmy grinned excitedly at the both of us. "Alright then," she said excitedly. "Let's get this sleepover started."

(_A/N: Emmy and Jonesy. Because we all have that one friend who enjoys the Avengers and the one friend that hates them.)_


	4. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2: Where Savannah Crane Makes an Unusual Statement About America_**

_The next day. . ._

"Hey, if you'd stop looking up the Avengers on Tumblr for two seconds, you'd see that Clayton Summers was coming this way."

_GAH! _Just when I needed it the most, my brain decided to go on break and leave my body. My heart thudded in my chest; what the hell was I supposed to do? _Quick! _Screamed every fiber of my being, oblivious to the fact that my brain was somewhere eating PopTarts. _Hide your nerdiness!_

I fumbled with my phone, facing my locker with my back to the crowd as I turned the screen off and shoved it into my pocket. And then I remembered that I was wearing my school uniform (because I was in school). . .and I had no pockets. My phone crashed against the floor, back popping off and battery flying.

"Damn." Jonesy tisked. "You're really horrible at this." "Oh come _on_!" I groaned quietly to myself. I bent down, snatching up my phone and its back before reaching for the battery. But someone reached it before I did. I watched as my battery was snatched up by a face I couldn't see.

I looked up and was frozen by the sight of a pair of dazzling brown eyes. God those were some gorgeous eyes. A pale, light brown; the delicious kind of brown, like the color of caramel that you drizzle on top of ice cream. I realized a little too late that I was gawking. "Umm. . ." a baritone voice began awkwardly. "This. . .this is yours?"

My brain choice then to return, only to tell me that I was staring at him like an idiot. "Huh?" I murmured. "Yeah! My battery. That's. . .that's my battery. Yup. Good ol' battery. Uhh. . .thanks." I outstretched my hand and was very embarrassed to find it shaking. Clayton Summers dropped my battery in my palm, avoiding eye contact with me before quickly shoving his hands in his pockets, turning, and walking away.

Yep. I'm pretty sure he hates my guts.

Still, my knees were quaking and my head was spinning. My eyes wouldn't move from the spot where he once stood. "He touched my battery. . ." I whispered with a love filled sigh. "Eew," Emmy murmured. "Please, never say that again. Just. . .so wrong." I felt Jonesy repeatedly poking my left arm and giving me a teasing kissy face. "He _loooooves _you!" she sang. "He thinks your _preeetty_. . .he wants to _maaaarry _you, he wants to _loooove _you!"

Could that be any farther from the truth?

"Oh shut up!" I snapped swatting her fingers away. "We all know he hates me. I spilled a slushie on him, how couldn't he?" Emmy hitched her shoulder bag higher on her shoulder. "You tripped because his size _three-thousand and eight_ shoe was in the middle of the aisle." She said sardonically. "Personally, I think he tripped you on purpose." I glared at her angrily.

"Would you _please _stop complaining about his feet!" I hissed. _They're probably gorgeous feet! _I mused in my head. Jonesy was smirking, which meant she was about to say something really gross. "Hey," she began. "You know what they saw about boys with big feet—" "JONESY!" Emmy and I chorused before she broke into hysterically loud laughter.

"Oh please, Johanna, stop with the hyena laughter." A drawling, valley girl voice echoed from behind me. I rolled my eyes because I knew exactly who it was. I turned, finding myself face-to-face with Erica Grey and the Wannabes. Let's see. . .how do we describe Erica Grey. . .picture your usual snobby blonde popular, queen bee sort of girl.

All you have to do is make her a brunette, extremely rich, give her some glasses, an IQ of 203, make her a teacher's pet, and there you go! Erica Grey. So, basically, she's me without the glasses. Which is probably why we hate each other so much. If it wasn't for my love for Avengers and my eccentric, "anything-to-be-anything-but-mainstream" qualities, we would have been best friends.

We almost _were _best friends.

Almost.

Erica looked me up and down, her hands on her hips and her lip stuck out in disapproval. Her Erica-Wannabe friends—Jenna, Violet and Savannah—did the same. "Hello Erica," I said, attempting to be friendly. "How was your weekend?" My compassion and nicest was revoked my Erica's palm in my face. "Save the act, Wilde," she sighed. "I hate fake people. Look, all I did was come over here to tell you that you _better _not have forgotten about our science research."

I dug into my bag as Jonesy asked smartly; "Would it kill you to answer a question, Erica? Geez, she just asked how your damn weekend was." "Would it kill you to keep your mouth shut?" Savannah quipped in a sweet, sugar coated voice. "_Hey_!" Emmy hissed. "That's my friend you're talking to, and b—" I snatched out the printed white paper, holding it in the air. "HEY." I interrupted. "Let's not have a fight in the hallways here, people. Erica," I outstretched the papers to her. "Here's the—"

She snatched them out of my hand. "All I needed." She said dryly. "Alright. I'll work on the project, and we'll get an A, as usual." She looked me up and down again, seemingly more bored than anything. Emmy and I were stuck as partners in science.

I don't know how it happened, it just did, and whenever we have a project or something, we work at a distance. I do the research, she does all the legwork and craftiness. And we always get an A+ because Eric and I are two of the smartest people in the classroom. But suddenly Erica flashed us a smile and waved. "Bye-bye now sweeties!" She called before walking off, her followers going behind her in a single file line.

Savannah stopped in front of me, her platform shoes making her a good four inches taller than me. "Oh yeah," she whispered quietly. "And Clayton Summers? Forget about him. There's no way he'd want a nerd like you." My fists balled at my sides angrily. Nerd was one word I hated. _Especially _coming from people like Savannah Crane. "And why not?" I replied, trying to sound nice and reasonable, even though I wanted nothing more than to rip her head off.

Savannah sneered down at me before glancing up and realizing that her posse was leaving her. "Because I. . .am what America wants the world to see," she whispered sharply. "And you. . .are what America wants to hide." And with that, she flipped her ebony black hair in my face and sashayed off.

I stood there, unsure of what to do yet again. Behind me, Emmy scoffed. "Was that supposed to be some kind of smart, deep quote?" she asked. "Uhh. . ." Jonesy murmured, thoroughly confused. "I don't know. I'm confused. . .so that means it had to be deep." "No Jonesy, that was stupid." Emmy corrected. "You can't let that bitch get to you, Olivia." I didn't say anything; I really couldn't.

In a way, Savannah was right, wasn't she? Her crew was the girls who were their skirts short, their blouses tight and their shoes with heels up to the hilt. They were the ones with perfect skin and beautiful hair and flawless bodies. They were the ones you saw in magazines, on TV and in movies.

And me? What was I? The nerd, the underdog. And I knew that, usually, underdogs ended up with the guy and they got everything they wanted in the end but. . .I really wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be the "perfect" one for once, not the nerd. I wanted to be the girl who had guys tripping over themselves and fighting to get to her.

But I'd never have that, would I? I was too ugly for that.

"Olivia?" Emmy asked, sounding worried. I didn't look at them. I started quickly down the hall, clapping my hands as I went. "Wheels up," I murmured to them in a hardly audible voice. "Rock and roll."


	5. Chapter 3

_** Chapter 3: Where Olivia Has an Alien Encounter. . .Or So She Thinks**_

(_A/N:I just realized why Olivia Wilde sounded like such a nice, catchy, BEAUTIFUL name. 'Cause she's a celebrity. _-_-" _Thanks a lot, brain.)_

Well, Jonesy's storm came. And it was one hell of storm, too.

It happened somewhere around eighth period, towards the end of the day. Rain was pattering against the windows full force, making it look like there was a grey fog descending outside. The sun had run far, far away. Even _it _was afraid of this storm. Heavy rain clouds dominated the sky and even though it was only around two thirty, it looked like eight o'clock at night. The streets were flooded in no time and the wind was absolutely brutal, it had the trees fighting to stay rooted in place.

And the worst thing about it all? I had to take the bus home every day after school, but not the bus everyone else took. I had to wait a corner across the street from a huge deserted field for the bus. A sunny, beautiful day, it was serene. On a day like today, it was undoubtedly going to be hell. And I had this sickening feeling that the bus was going to be late.

As soon as school was dismissed I pulled out my phone and began to call my parents. I knew_ they_ wouldn't be able to pick me up—they were both at work, and we all know that they love work more than they love me—but at least they could call our butler Edward (who I sometimes called Jarvis, much to his annoyance) to come pick me up or something.

As I gathered my things and hurried down the hall, I phoned my mother. She was more sympathetic than my father, who would probably just tell me a "when I was your age" story. "Vanessa Wilde, who's calling?" Answered my mother's professional voice, much to my own annoyance. I was currently balancing by rain jacket, my Avengers umbrella, shoulderbag and my phone—in a hallway full of teenagers itching to get home.

So no, I was _not _having fun.

"Mom, this is your personal phone and you have caller ID," I reminded. "You don't always have to answer like that." "Oh—Olivia!" she said happily, realizing it was me. "Sorry honey, sometimes I forget phone which is which. Honey, is everything okay? Didn't you just get out of school?" I followed the crowd out into the rain, lifting up my umbrella as I did so.

Kids were screaming and acting a fool, like they usually do whenever it rained. Me? I took it as Thor acknowledging my existence. "Yeah, and it's raining cats and dogs out here, it's horrible." I said into the phone. "Really?" Mom sounded surprised. "Huh. It's just a little rain and wind down here. . ." Well that was odd. _Maybe Jonesy's right, _I thought. _Maybe this IS an alien storm. . ._"You think you could give Edward a call so he could come pick me up at the bus stop or something? I have a feeling the bus is gonna be late, the roads are really bad."

Mom sighed. "Sweetie, you really need to get the house number so you can do this yourself." "I know!" I replied. But what I was wondering was why I'd ever need the number to my own house. I was kind of beginning to realize it, as I stood in the midst of hundreds of teenagers with my Avengers umbrella to the sky. Around the parking lot, people were piling into cars to get out of the rain. I watched them, half intrigued, as they scrambled madly like ants to get here and there.

And then I spotted _him._

Clayton Summers.

He was getting into the driver's seat of a silver car that looked almost identical to the one Tony had owned in the first Iron Man movie—which made the car _extremely _awesome. I could see him, but he couldn't see me, which made it all the more awesome. His dark hair was hidden behind the hood of his sweatshirt, and he seemed to be rushing to get out of the rain like everyone else. Unlike everyone else, he wasn't running around screaming his head off or something.

It was then that I realized I was standing in the middle of the rain, staring at a boy as he got into his car.

It got especially weird when he paused and looked my way.

For a moment, I didn't know what to do. _Sigh, caramel. . ._said my brain. _OMG HE'S LOOKING JUST DO SOMETHING UN-WEIRD! _Screamed my emotions. I looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and pretending to be extremely engrossed with the conversation I was having on my phone. "Mom?" I said. "Uhhh Edward. Car." "Oh!" Apparently Mom forgot I was on the phone. Pfft, at least I had an excuse for forgetting she was on the phone.

Hot guy alert? Duh.

"Of course sweetie, I'll give him a call, you just go wait for the bus just in case." She said. "Cool." I replied, merging in with the rowdy crowd as I began to walk away from the school. "Love ya mom, bye." After hanging up, I shoved my phone into my pocket and continued walking. I dared to look over my shoulder once, and Clayton was just pulling out of the parking lot.

I felt my face grow hot and I leveled my gaze to the ground as I continued forwards. I just _had _to be staring at him and he just _had _to catch me. Now, he probably doesn't just hate me, he thinks I'm a total stalky _weirdo_. Maybe Savannah was right, after all, all the proof was backing her. Nothing was supporting the fact that she was probably wrong, everything was just agreeing with her. The world was agreeing with her.

I hated it.

0o0o0

I stood at the corner, where the bus was scheduled to arrive any moment now. . .if it arrived at all, that was.

The sidewalk I stood on had cracked, bent and broken concrete. To my right and to my left, the horizontal sidewalk stretched on, seemingly going on forever to the horizon. Behind me there was a thick, lush, scary looking forest. It was complete with green shrubs, vines, trees with trunks twice my size and branches that stuck out in every direction and any direction.

And across from me was the field. I don't know what else to call it; it was a stretch of untamed land that stretched for acres and acres. I guessed that it wasn't owned by anyone, because it was in such bad condition. It looked more like a marsh than anything.

Wild, withered grass grew up everywhere, stretching to almost a full two feet high. I stepped over there a couple times in the past; the dirt had been dry and rock hard. Speaking of rocks, small pebbles were everywhere, liable to sink into your sneakers and shoes at any given moment.

I bet there were snakes and spiders in that grass, too. I _hated _snakes and spiders. Not that I was afraid of them. . .uhh. . .I just don't like them. Okay? Okay. Stop being nosy.

I didn't go over to the field much, because the only time I usually stood at this bus stop was after school, and I always had on my uniform after school. The uniform wasn't exactly ideal for going Dora the Explorer in the middle of a wild field. I wore black loafers, white knee high socks, a white and black checker-print pleated skirt, and a white blouse with a black tie.

Well, that's what we're _supposed _to be wearing. Me? Well. . .where to start.

My socks were tie-dye and rainbow colored, which matched my new crop jacket. I had on my black bangles and my black necklace, which matched my black scarf. Matching! I know! Me! It's a sin to match, in my case anyway, but I figured that rainbow and black clashed enough to be considered "mix and match". With my Avengers umbrella, I was certainly a sight to behold.

The rain was now letting up; in fact, it was getting worse. Rain fell off the sides of my umbrella in buckets, but I wasn't protected from the wind. It blew against me with a wild ferocity, which made my clutch the handle of my umbrella even tighter to keep it from blowing away; or worse, turning inside out. I looked both ways on the street, searching for any sign of Edward. I saw none.

I groaned. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere during a record-breaking storm with bad memories of embarrassment (*cough*ClaytonSummers*cough*) stuck on my mind. I could sometimes be a very emotional person—ridiculously emotional most of the time—which explained (and excused) why I really felt like crying right then and there. Could my life get any worse?

Apparently, it could.

Or, if you look at it this way, my life could get a hell of a lot better.

I glanced back at the field and was very surprised to find that the sky was changing above it. I froze, my eyes glued to the scene. The thick, heavy grey rain clouds were swirling together, like cake batter in a mixer, coming together to form one huge bulge in the sky. My jaw dropped. "Holy shit," I murmured. "Holy shit. . .Jonesy was _right_. . ."

Somewhere not too far away, thunder boomed. It was a loud, scary sound that made me—who isn't afraid of a little thunder and lightning—jump. White lightning suddenly split the stormy sky in two. A shiver ran down my spine. I didn't like this; I didn't like this _at all_.

I backed towards the forest without taking my eyes off of the sky. A funnel cloud was forming above the field, twirling like a tornado towards the earth. Unlike most funnel clouds, this one was huge, spanning the length of a football field and advancing like God's fist towards the field. My heart hammered in my chest and my jaw dropped.

Aliens. There were aliens coming and I couldn't do anything. I mean, what was I supposed to do, run? Run _where_? I figured hiding in the forest was my best bet. I backed away even further, hiding between the shrubs and the vines. It was harder than it sounded, I had to manage my umbrella in there too, my skirt snagged onto a branch and dirt now covered my shoes. Hopefully, the aliens wouldn't be able to see me, because I could still see the funnel cloud clear as day. _Now wait Olivia, _I told myself in a calm voice. _You don't even know that these are _aliens _we're working with here._

Lightning flashed again. For a moment, it seemed like the whole world lit up white. Even the funnel cloud glowed. And it was then that I saw the figure—more of a black silhouette than a figure—falling out of the sky, tumbling over and over like a ragdoll, through the funnel towards the ground. _Nope. _Said my mind. _That's definitely an alien._

I couldn't help it, I screamed. I mean, how many times do _you _see people falling through funnel clouds out of the sky.

Thankfully, I noticed a black limo pulling up towards the curb. Relief filled every fiber of my being. "Edward!" I exclaimed as a grin spread on my face. A hero would have probably gone to investigate. A hero would have told Edward to wait while they trekked over to the field to find out exactly _what _was going on. A hero would have stood right under that damn funnel cloud and fought the aliens.

Guess what?

You've got the wrong story, I'm not a hero.

I fought my way out of the forest, getting leaves in my hair and dirt on my clothes in the process. Rain soaked me in the seconds it took for me to race from the forest to the limo parked at the curb.

I only glanced at the cloud once, but I could no longer see the silhouette. I didn't need too; I knew it was still there. I climbed into the backseat before Edward could even get up to open the door for me. I slammed the door behind me, thankful for the warm car and the dry leather seats. I collapsed, holding my head back against the window. But it wasn't over yet, we weren't gone. My heart started pumping at overtime again.

Edward looked over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes quizzical. Edward had been in service to the Wilde family for generations; he watched me grow up _and _my father. And yet, despite his balding grey head, he was surprisingly fit for an old dude—he had a black belt in karate and everything. Plus, he's British, and he has that typical old butler voice. But before he could open his mouth to say something, I exclaimed frantically; "Edward, step on it! Drive and don't look back! Like, EVER!"

His brow furrowed. "Is something wrong, Olivia?" he asked in concern. I narrowed my eyes at him, chest heaving with heavy breaths. "Yeah!" I snapped. Edward glanced around as if he might see the cause of the problem before locking eyes with me again. "What is it?" he questioned. "What's wrong?" "YOU AREN'T DRIVING!" I screamed.

Edward rolled his eyes before turning around and stirring up the engine again. "Your insulting sarcasm never ceases to amuse, Miss Wilde." He said in dry sarcasm. Usually me and Edward try to out-sarcasm each other. But not today; not this time. I didn't say anything in reply, though usually I did. I only glanced out the window at the funnel cloud in silence as I felt the car begin to pull off in an easy manner that did _not _fit the situation.

We should have been driving off so fast the tires would squeal.

But as I sat there, driving away from with field, slouched in the comfy back seat of the limo, I couldn't help but wonder. . .was driving away the right thing to do?


	6. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: Where Edward Wonders About FrostIron**_

"Olivia, I can faithfully assure you that your parents will be most perturbed when they see you."

"Oh, gee thanks Jarvis, because there was no way I'd ever figure that out on my own."

I took the towel Edward outstretched to me while he gave me an annoyed look. Lazily, I dried my arms and my legs, knowing that my clothes would have to be washed and dried all over again. And as for the rips in my skirt. . .well, I may have needed a new skirt. I gave Edward a pleading look, batting my eyelashes and sticking out my lower lip. "Promise not to tell them?" I whined cutely. "That you were playing hide-and-go-seek in the middle of the forest with your imaginary Avenger friends?" he began. "No. Of course not."

Despite the insult to my sanity, I smiled. "Thanks Edward," I said, truly grateful. "You're the best." He took the damp towel from me as he turned away, probably to attend to some other kind of business. "Yes, I know." He sighed. You have no idea how many secrets Edward keeps from my parents about me. If he wanted to blackmail me, he'd have enough things to hold over my head to keep me as a slave for life.

Edward paused in the doorway of my room. He glanced over his shoulder with the sort of smug look that meant that something had happened that made him one point ahead on the out-sarcasm-fest. "Oh, and Miss Olivia," he began. "Your. . .fan fiction? It needs a little work in the grammar and word choice department. Especially the. . ._garden hose _part."

I gasped, all the blood rushing to my face. I couldn't remember a time when I was more embarrassed in my life. I was as still as a statue, surprise and confusion filling my every vein. "You. . .you snooped!" I hissed accusingly. "You looked through my notebooks!" "Naturally that'd be the case, wouldn't it?" Edward asked boredly. "But no, not this time. I didn't have to, you left it out on your bed this morning."

Edward watched in plain amusement as I rushed to my bed, snatching up my notebooks filled with rated R fan fiction about the Avengers. "And may I ask, Miss Olivia—" "NO!" I yelled desperately as I gathered the notebooks in my arms. He went ahead as if I hadn't said anything in the first place. "What, exactly, is FrostIron?"

I threw my head back towards the ceiling with a groan.

0o0o0

We had only been away from the field for an hour, which meant that whatever had landed was long gone now. If I wanted to go back, I'd be too late. The aliens—or whatever had landed—was probably long gone now. I had chickened out on my one chance to check out what had happened, and now I just had to live with the consequences.

So far, choosing to get in the limo was my greatest regret in life.

I was sprawled out on my bed on my stomach, telling Jonesy and Emmy about my latest adventure with aliens. Jonesy believed my every word and was over-the-top excited about it. "Oh no," she had groaned. "That means there's an _alien _somewhere in the city now! Crap, what if they're invading! Livvie, we gotta do something!" I managed to convince my friend that there were not alien monsters invading New York City—this wasn't Tokyo.

Emmy didn't believe a word I said at first. Finally I had managed to get her to believe a little bit of it. But even then she was still shaky. "Are you _sure _you saw a person?" she asked. "Storms are really weird. When you have an overactive imagination—" "Hey!" I interrupted defensively, but she just talked over me. "They make you see things that aren't really there. It was probably just a plane."

But I know what I saw was no plane.

I had no proof, however, because I had made the choice of running instead of staying and investigating. I hated myself for doing that. But I couldn't go back and change the past, could I? Instead, I decided to focus on the future. What could I do now that would try and make tomorrow a better day than today?

Go back to the field and see what I could find, of course.

Now, whatever landed—be it alien or plane or whatever—probably wouldn't be there, but maybe something else would, something else that would qualify as proof. Maybe I could convince Edward to just drop me off at the bus stop.

Then I could walk across to the field and see what I could find before the bus came. Sure, I'd be a little late for school, but I figured it was worth it. With that plan set in my mind, I was tip-of-my-toes excited for tomorrow morning. Only problem was that tomorrow morning wasn't coming until. . .tomorrow morning. What was I supposed to do until then?

I was, by then anyway, bored out of my mind.

I quickly completely my homework and then moved on to studying. Once that was over, I quickly took to writing another chapter of lovely fan fiction—and took a special moment to hide it from other people's (*cough*Edward*cough*) prying eyes. Then I got on the computer and wasted the rest of my time on Tumblr and . All the while, I was texting my two best friends about random things.

It was a good afternoon indeed.

Time flew by. Before I knew it, it was dinnertime and Mom was ringing my phone as usual. I could almost recite word-for-word what she would say. "Hello?" I said, holding the phone to my ear with my eyes glued to the computer screen. "Olivia, sweetie hi, it's Mommy," she said, sounding extremely remorseful. I didn't bother to tell her not to refer to herself as Mommy, it never worked.

"Hey Mom," I said instead. "What's up?" "Something. . .something big came up all of a sudden and I don't think I'll be home in time for dinner tonight." She sighed. Of course she wouldn't, it was dinnertime _now. _Speaking of which. . .I got up, shut the top of my laptop and slid my feet into my flip-flops. "Don't worry about it, Mom," I said nonchalantly. "It's cool. I get it. Where's Dad?"

"Oh, you know he's in Chicago on that whole—" "_Ohhhh _okay." I interrupted, because if Mom got started it took her fifteen minutes before she stopped. "Well, as long as everything's going well with you guys—" "It is, it is," she interrupted happily. "Listen, sweetie, I promise I'll make it up to you, okay? We could go shopping or to the movies or something this weekend, alright?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Did you get home alright?" she asked next. "Yep," I said. "Look, Mom, I gotta go, okay? Love you, bye." Once she had told me that she loved me and that she was going to make it up to me—again—I hung up. She always says that she'll make it up to me. And usually, that only ends in two ways—one, she doesn't, two, she does and it turns out horribly for me but I fake happiness for her.

She really does feel bad about missing so much of my life.

0o0o0

We were having roast beef for dinner—"we" being Edward and I.

The dining room was absurdly huge, like the rest of the house. Our house was big enough to safely house about eleven people without even one of them seeing each other once throughout the day. But only four people lived inside; or, when you put some real thought into it, two. Considering the fact that my parents were hardly ever home and all.

I made small talk with Edward as I ate, not touching my vegetables and gobbling down my starches. The roast beef was good, sure, but it wasn't exactly my favorite. I didn't mind that my parents were absent, they almost always were. This was just another, everyday dinner for me. It would have been weirder if they _were _here, now that I thought about it.

After I was finished I went back upstairs and got back on the computer, searching Tumblr and having a ball until it got really late and I could barely keep my eyes open. When I checked the clock, I realized that it was one o'clock in the morning. I sighed. Typical of Edward not to come in and tell me about how late it had gotten.

No, that wasn't how he was. He wasn't the type of person to warn you about staying up late so you wouldn't be tired the next day. He didn't care if you stayed up all night, _especially _not if you had school the next day. No, tomorrow he'd be waking me up at the usual time, six o'clock, and shipping me off to school. He wouldn't even care if I went to sleep at five fifty-nine. . .in the _morning._

I decided to call it a night. I logged off the internet, made some last finishing touches on my fan fiction, and then decided to take a shower. Most of the bedrooms had a private bathroom, including my room. After I was all washed up and clean and flower-y smelling, I changed into my pajamas, shut off my light, closed my curtains and climbed into bed.

It was when I was laying under the blankets, my head against the pillow and my breathing the only noise in the room, then I remembered. . .I had a plan for tomorrow. I'd be going back to the field, investigating the suspicious things that had happened after school today. I'd be searching intently for evidence, and I didn't even have to slightest clue as to what I would find.

I could find anything, really.

My heart began to do somersaults again and my stomach disappeared from my body all of a sudden. My head was spinning and I couldn't get the excited grin off of my face. Oh, and did I mention, I couldn't go to sleep? I mean, when you're tip-of-your-toes excited, how _can _you go to sleep?

Trick question, you can't.


	7. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5: Where Olivia Calls Herself Stupid_**

"Up, Miss Olivia, time for school."

I never thought I'd ever be happy to hear Edward say that. My eyes flew open to the glorious sight of my capacious bedroom bathed in sunlight. Edward, dressed in his usual black suit and shiny ebony shoes, was standing in front of the window, pulling back the curtains. I nearly rocketed out of bed, I was so excited. "Yeah I know!" I said happily as I raced for the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me and turned on the lights, my head suddenly throbbing from waking up so quickly. Oops. The bathroom was lit up bright pink, because my bulbs in there were pink. What? I liked funky colors in the bathroom, and this month it just happened to be pink. Last month it was neon yellow; but that hurt my eyes so it got changed early.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face and pulled my long dark hair back into a braid starting at the base of my neck. Then I swung the door of the bathroom open, letting it slam against the wall with a dramatic _bang_. Edward had long since left my room, and one glance at the clock told me that I had gotten ready in record time. I was doing good so far.

I changed into my uniform, but this time wearing a lime green vest with thin lime green fishnets instead of socks, with a sparkly orange beanie on my head and orange jewelry. Once I checked myself in front of the mirror, making sure I looked exactly the way I wanted to, I decided to go down for breakfast and _finally _get out of this house and out to the field.

I rushed downstairs to the dining room again, where pancakes, eggs and sausage were waiting for me. It was my favorite breakfast, and it had been ever since I was little. I gobbled down my food, deciding to wait until we were in the limo to so much as mention Edward dropping me off at the bus stop.

0o0o0

"Hey Edward," I said once we were pulling off in the limo. "Think you could drop me off at the bus stop?" He didn't bother taking his eyes off of the road, and I didn't bother taking my eyes off of my phone. What? Not only was I Tumblr obsessed, I was also Instagram obsessed. "Whatever for?" Edward asked, sounding like he really couldn't care less. Shit. I hadn't thought about this. I needed a lie and I needed one quickly.

"Me and my friend. . .Erica are science partners and she takes the bus so we were going to do our assignment on the bus because we both forgot. . .?" I tried to sound nonchalant, like I wasn't lying. I hardly ever lied. I really was _not _a good liar. I mentally kicked myself for using Erica—of all the people in the world, why her? I could have made up a name; hell, I could have said Natasha for all Edward knew!

Edward sighed. "Alright," he agreed. "And I believe this is another one of the things I won't be telling your parents about?" I couldn't help but laugh; not because it was funny—because it wasn't—but because I was ecstatic that he was _actually _going to do it. "Right." I agreed.

We pulled up at the bus stop, where the limo came to a halt. I gathered my shoulder bag and my phone, flashing Edward a grateful smile. "Thanks again, Jarvis!" I called teasingly as I left the limo, closing the door behind me. Edward rolled down the window, giving me an annoyed face. "I hope you didn't leave another notebook on your bed," he said flatly. "I get quite bored sometimes."

I rolled my eyes, but it was when he was driving off that I realized that I hadn't locked up one of the notebooks where they belonged. "NO!" I called desperately. "Wait, seriously, Edward, don't read it!" Too late. The limo was already disappearing off into the distance. I stomped my feet in anger, but I couldn't stay agitated for too long.

After all, I had a field to search.

It was much nicer out today than it was before. The sun was shining and the wind was nothing but a breeze. I didn't hear any birds singing, which was a good sign, because if I did, I would have sworn I was in some kind of Disney movie. Which I was not.

I walked across the deserted street to the scary looking field. Last night the funnel had touched the ground not too far off. I grumbled about how I should have worn boots because I _knew _I'd be walking in this grass. And the rain had turned the usually asphalt hard dirt into mud. "Idiot," I called myself as I stomped, blades of dry grass tickling my calves. All around me was grass; to my left, to my right, in back of me and stretching out endlessly in front of me I felt like I was stuck in a sea of dry, white grass.

I could only hope that I wouldn't find any snakes and spiders.

Not too far off, I spotted a shed. At least, I thought it was a shed at first. I made my way towards it, and the closer I got, the more I realized that I had been wrong. It seemed to be the doors to some kind of underground safehouse, like the kinds that people have connected to their houses to hide in, in case of a tornado or something.

What were one of those things doing out here?

It was entirely too suspicious, and I just had to investigate. After all, what if the weird thing I was searching for, the weird thing I was hoping to find proof in, was right there? I quickened my pace the closer I got to it, my heart going crazy and spots appearing in my eyes from excitement and fear.

I realized that if something happened to me, no one would ever know. If I was kidnapped, it could be years until I was found. No one would know where I had been—no one knew I was in this field. I swallowed hard, realizing that this probably wasn't a good idea.

_Oh well, _I sighed. _Too late to turn back now. _

The outside of the doors were rusted and old; mold grew on the side of the doors closest to me. It looked like it hadn't been used in years. Yet, despite all that, there was a discarded, broken, rusted silver chain on the ground in front of the doors. It was almost hidden between the wild blades of grass, but I managed to make it out when I stood right above it.

These doors had been chained. And someone—or something—had broken them. Just recently, by the look of it. I took a deep breath, looking at the doors that were slightly ajar. Someone—or something—had been in there. . .or still _was. _I took a deep breath. The smart thing to do would be to march right back through this field, back to the bus stop, and wait for the bus and go to school. The smart thing to do would be to call the police and have them figure it out. The smart thing to do would be to just leave this whole thing alone and not get myself into a load of trouble.

Guess what?

You've got the right story, I'm not smart.

I stepped in front of the double rusted doors that guarded the safehouse. I gripped one of the handles with both hands and, pulling with all my might, swung it open. The hinges squealed and groaned loudly in protest, loud enough for the whole field to hear, as dust floated up from the darkness below the doors. I could make out a steep staircase that consisted of about six wooden stairs, cement walls that were covered in spider webs—shit—but other than that, nothing but darkness.

"H-H-Hello?" I called. "Anyone down there? Hello?" My voice received no answer. I took a deep breath and, summoning all my courage, decided to plunge down there to see what I could find. I pushed all thoughts of spiders out of my mind and thought to myself; _What would an Avenger do? _It was the only way to summon up enough courage to do this.

The first stair creaked under the weight of my foot. I swung my other foot past it and stepped onto the second stair. "I-I-If anyone's down there, I-I'm coming down. . ." I warned as I moved onto the third stair, trying hard just to watch the darkness and not the walls covered in spider webs. I could see an archway in front of the staircase, leading into a room that was covered in a blanket of darkness; I could make out nothing.

Then I heard rustling inside the room. I froze on the fourth stair, my breath caught in my throat. _RUN! _Screamed my brain. _RUN, BITCH, RUN! _But I couldn't move. My legs had turned to led, along with everything else in my body. All I could do was stare into the darkness, where I heard something mysterious moving. "I-I'm sorry, I just. . ." A voice. A voice was speaking. . .to me. The voice of a teenaged boy, it sounded like. "There was a storm last night, and. . .uhh. . .I was lost so I. . .I came down here. Does. . .does this place belong to you?"

"Ahh. . ." How would I answer that question? Would a lie be better or the truth? I was confused but I had to say something. "N-No, actually, I just—"A light flickered on, and the room was suddenly illuminated. My mind registered several things at once.

One; the room looked as badly as the rusted doors outside did. It was about the size of my bathroom back home with a table protruding from the wall on the left and shelves above it, an old, molded bookcase on the right side of the room and dust, dirt and spider webs all over the place.

Two; it was, in fact, a teenage boy I was talking to. And he was, oddly enough, wearing a Captain America costume. He looked a lot like Cap too, but just a younger version I guess. _Remarkably _close, in fact. _Too _close. He had the same light blonde hair, the same perfect porcelain skin, the same brilliant, clear blue eyes—a perfect American pie. He was, however, a good six inches or so taller than me with muscles that looked like he could bench press a bus.

Three; there was a shield lying on the table, a shield that looked a lot like Captain America's shield. _Remarkably _close, in fact. _Too _close. The same white and red pattern with the white star, seemingly made out of some type of special metal. The more I stared at the shield the more I realized. . .that wasn't some shield that someone had fashioned because they were good at arts and crafts and were heading to Comic Con. No. That was the real thing. That was the real damn shield of Captain frigging America.

My jaw dropped. My eyes grew wide. I slowly looked from the shield to the tall boy standing in front of me. He gave me a quizzical look. "Uhh. . .miss?" he began cautiously. "Are you. . .are you alright? You look a little—" My eyes flashed back and forth. The shield. This boy. No way. No way, no way, no way, no way. "Y-Y-Y-Y-Y—" I couldn't stop stuttering.

My head suddenly felt light, my heart beating too fast. I could only gawk and point at him as he stared at me in worry and confusion. "You're. . .you're. . .you're. . .Captain Ameri—" I never got a chance to finish my sentence because every bone in my body decided to go on lunch break. I toppled to the floor, my vision going blurry, as Steve gasped and made a lung for me. "Miss!" he exclaimed, his voice fading out along with my vision. "A-Are you—"

Everything went black.


	8. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6: Where Olivia Invites Steve into Her House. No, Get Your Mind Out of the Gutter**_

When I first woke up, I felt as if the whole thing was a dream. My head was fuzzy, as if I was waking up from a long night of sleep. The room was dim and I couldn't really make out anything; all I knew was that I was lying on a hard surface with a blanket, which was a bit weird, but I figured I was still somewhere in my room.

With a groan I slowly sat up, my head spinning. "Oh. . ."I moaned. "God, I feel horrible." "I guessed you would," said a voice to my left. "I went and got you a bottle of cold water—" I, not recognizing the voice, almost got whiplash because I snapped my head to the left so quickly. There was the tall, broad shouldered blonde boy, staring at me with blue eyes filled with compassion and a cold water bottle in his hands.

He looked nervous to approach me, yet still worried at the same time, and yet again I sat a Captain America-ish shield on the ground and the red, white and blue costume that he wore. And yet again, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had fainted because I had figured out that I was lying in the middle of some underground safe house with the one and only Captain America.

"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y—" I never got a chance to finish my sentence, because I fainted again right then and there.

0o0o0

When I woke up the final time, there was a bottle of water at the foot of the table I was lying on. I was aware that this time, it hadn't been a dream. This was real. This was _actually _happening. I felt even worse than before; now I was stuck with a headache and the feeling of intense grogginess.

"Uh, please don't faint again, Miss," He was near the corner of the room this time, still giving me those pleading, compassionate sky blue eyes. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for fifteen minutes or so now." I stared for a few moment, blinking to make sure I had all my bearings together. I was really sitting in a room with a teenaged Steve Rogers.

Oh dear God. How did this even _happen_?

"Oh, no, no, I. . .I'm all fainted out. . ." There were so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to say, but for some reason I just didn't know how to politely word them without sounding like some kind of idiot. I slowly sat up, my head wheeling. Okay, alright, so this is. . .actually happening.

Wow.

I swung my legs, struggling to get off of the table and to stand up. Steve rushed to my aid, grabbing my arm to steady me. _Ehmigawd. _Screamed my brain. _Steve Rogers is touching me. OHHHHHHHH my God._ "Thanks," I murmured. "How long. . .how long was I out?" Once I was stable and on my own two feet, he let go of my arm and I think I whimpered. "I'm not exactly sure," he answered. "But it has to be at least an hour or so since you first walked down here."

I couldn't help but groan. This wasn't good. I'd be super late for school, and I wouldn't even have a good excuse. What was I supposed to say? _I fainted because I saw Captain America in a place where I wasn't even supposed to be. _How believable did _that _sound? Oh, and speaking of that. . .

I turned and looked at him, studying his features. Yup, this was definitely Cap. "What are you. . .what are you doing here?" I asked shakily. His eyebrows went up. "Oh, I'm sorry, does this place belong to you?" he asked. "Because if it does I—" I shook my head, giving a flip off my wrist as if to wave the subject. "No, it doesn't but. . .that's not what I meant," I began.

"I mean, Steve, you're Captain America so. . ." Upon hearing the words "Captain" and "America", his expression instantly changed to a look of completely surprise. I only continued talking. "How are you. . .real? And why are you so. . .so young?" He suddenly looked at me quizzically. "Real?" he repeated in confusion. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair.

"I know I'm not still in New York—at least not _my _New York; well, it's not _my _New York either, it's. . .the other New York. Future New York," A small smile spread on my face as he continued to talk. Yup, this was most definitely Steve. "But this, here, isn't really the _actual _New York this is. . .some other New York. Some different New York. I mean," He chuckled nervously. "Stark Tower is. . .is gone. Like, completely gone. And all day today people have been telling me—kids mostly—that I had a 'nice costume'. Someone even mentioned Halloween and—"

All the while I had been nodding in agreement, and I figured that I better interrupt now and explain things to him. "Yeah. That's because here. . .you're not real." Steve froze. He cocked his head at me, squinting confusedly. "What?" he asked, and I nodded again. "This. . .this isn't you New York, you're right. Here, the Avengers don't exist. _You _don't exist. Your world doesn't exist."

He began to pace as I continued to explain, his brilliant blue eyes leveled at the floor. "You guys are comic book characters, movie characters, and nothing more. That's it. You're. . .fictional superheroes. You're not real, not in this realm slash dimension." Steve was shaking his head. "No, this. . .this can't be possible. . ." I chuckled a bit nervously. "That's what I've been thinking, which is exactly why I fainted."

He paused and looked at me, a deep look in his eyes that told me he was thinking. His blonde hair was now disheveled, and I noticed his suit was still kind of damp from the intense storm last night. "Maybe. . ." he murmured. "It was the portal." As I frowned in confusion—what the hell was he talking about?—he snapped his fingers. "Yes, that has to be it. The portal."

"There was a portal?" I asked gently, and he nodded. _I'm having a conversation with Captain America. _Said my brain. _OMG. This is amazing. _"Yes, and we all got sucked into it. . .and I must have ended up. . .here. In this dimension, in this New York." I could only shrug, because I didn't exactly know all the details. "Possibly," I commented. "Sounds probable."

He stared past me at the wall, lost in a sea of thoughts. "Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to get back home," he murmured. "And I have no idea how to do that." I shrugged. "Well, maybe I could help you." I offered. What? There was no way in hell I was about to let Steve Rogers wander away from me. This was my big chance! I was going to get to hang out with a real, _actual _Avenger.

How many fan girls get this opportunity? That's right, _none_!

"I live in a huge house, I could lend you a room and you could stay for however long you needed." I offered calmly. But Steve shook his head, which wasn't a good sign. "Oh no, I couldn't impose on you like that—" "Of course you can! Impose away!" I joked with a grin, and he smiled a little. "We don't mind, really, we have more than enough space. Sometimes that house gets really creepy because it's so empty." "Alright," he finally agreed, and I began to grin so hard my cheeks started to burn. "Thank you."

"No problem!" I blurted quickly, rocking from heel to toe in excitement. "My pleasure, really." "Um, miss, what's your name?" he asked carefully. "I don't think you told me—" "Oh! Sorry! Yeah," I giggled nervously. _God I sound like an idiot, _I thought. _How could I not have told him my name?! Who DOES that? _I outstretched my hand, still beaming. "Wilde, Olivia. Olivia Wilde," I fumbled over my words.

But Steve merely smiled and shook my hand—he had a firm, hard handshake, and he looked me in the eye. Nervously, I looked away, suddenly very interested in my shoes. "Nice to meet you, Miss Wilde," he said. "But shouldn't you be in school?" I was shaking my head and shrugging before I knew it. "No, I don't have school today," This lying thing. . .it's _really _becoming chronic now. I hadn't meant to say that, it just came out.

Before awkward silence had a chance to set in, I quickly spoke up. "I should show you back to the house now," I said. "Oh, and, before we get there. . .I have to warn you. . .we may have to sneak in." Steve frowned at me. "Sneak in?" he repeated in confusion. "What for?" Apparently, lying didn't come to me when I needed it to. "Ah. . .just. . .go with the flow." I said with a nonchalant shrug.

Steve was still looking at me suspiciously, so I knew I wasn't completely off the hook yet.

Well this wasn't good, was it?


	9. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7: Where Olivia and Steve Become Spies. . .Kinda**_

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Steve whispered, and I reveled in the fact that we were crouched shoulder to shoulder, knees touching as we kneeled into the grass, peering into the kitchen to make sure Edward was nice and busy. We were hidden behind the bushes that were placed in front of the window, so we could see him but he couldn't see us.

"Mmhmm," I answered. "Well, kinda. Think of this as some kind of. . .top secret Avengers mission." He glanced over at me, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. I flashed him a grin. With a smile, he looked back at the window. "Hey, you never told me why you look like you're seventeen." I said.

He sighed, not taking his eyes away from the glass of the window. I watched the intent look on his face, still fascinated by him. "That's because I don't know," he murmured. "Who's this we're spying on? And why are we spying on him?" Well that was an easy question. "Oh, this is just Edward, he's my—"

I glanced back at the window and was very surprised to see Edward turning away from the stove and towards the window. I gasped. "Oh shi—" Before I knew it, I was tackled to the ground, my back on the grass and the branches of the bushes obstructing my view of above. Steve was above me, eyes still on the window, also hidden by the bushes.

Great. I just got tackled by Captain America, who was currently—literally—lying on top of me.

He had his arms on either side of my head and I was half lying on my side. _HEY, BRAIN! _I thought quickly. _Remember breathing? Yeah, let's figure out how to do that again. _"Umm. . ." I whispered, my heart beating so fast I thought he'd be able to hear it. "Is he gone?" "Yeah," He answered quietly. "And. . .he just left the room. C'mon, we gotta move." Before I could so much as gather my bearings, Steve was quickly helping me to my feet. . .and this time he was holding my hands. I felt all the blood rush to my face as my palms got sweaty.

Oh God, _why _did you give me sweaty hands?_ WHYYYY. _What is the use of sweaty hands?!

Steve didn't seem to notice, however, he seemed more intent with following Edward. There was a window almost every five feet along the brick wall, which made spying almost entirely too easy. _And _there was a bush below each window? _Way _too easy. Steve stayed low as he moved forward, peering inside at Edward and seemingly watching his every move. He kept a tight hold on my hand, probably to keep me from falling behind, but all I could think about was how sweaty my palms were.

"Was tackling me necessary?" I whispered sharply as we moved, trying to treat him as if he was just a normal person and _not _a fictional superhero. "Sorry," he apologized. "But you said to treat it like an Avengers mission." He paused just below a window, and since I was behind him I was stuck with not being able to see a damn thing. Great. "Look," I began in exasperation. "If you're going to be living with me, you have to understand that you can't listen to a word I say."

"Uh-huh," he said absentmindedly before frowning at me. "Who did you say this guy was, again?" "He's my butler, Edward," I explained. "And he. . .well, let's just say that you staying in the house has got to be a secret." I took my sweaty hand away from him, standing up and brushing the grass off of my skirt. "C'mon, we can get in through the front door since he's all the way in the sitting room."

We trekked around the house to the front door, Steve walking behind me as I still struggled with comprehending the fact that I was with Captain America. I glanced over my shoulder at him, noticing that he seemed very intrigued with the architecture of the house. In fact, he seemed intrigued with everything. I couldn't help but smile; the way he looked at the house like it was some kind of palace was sort of flattering and cute.

The only sound going between us was the sound of our shoes against the grass. I decided to fix that. "I heard that the Wilde Manor has been in my family for generations," I said quietly. "Wow," Steve said in awe, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair out of his face. "It's a beautiful manor, really. It's just. . ." The confused look on his face troubled me as we rounded the corner towards the front lawn.

"What?" I asked, starting up the marble staircase towards the door. Steve was looking around at everything as he walked a few paces behind me—the flower vases that stood at the landings of the railing, the white marble stairs themselves, the white verandah, the French double doors, everything but me. _Maybe he doesn't like me, _I thought pessimistically. _Like, at all. Maybe he's only doing this because he has to. _I gulped at the thought. God, if that was true. . .

"It just feels like . . .like I've been here before," he answered quietly. "But I can't remember when." Whoa. That was weird. I frowned at him over my shoulder. "Can that happen?" I asked. "I mean, we live in two different dimensions." Finally Steve met my eyes, a solemn look on his face. "Maybe this house is present in both dimensions." He guessed. I shook my head though, stepping up onto the verandah. "No, I'm pretty sure you're wrong," I said. "Maybe you just know a house similar to this one or something."

I realized after I said it that it was kind of harsh. With my hand lingering on the doorknob, I looked over my shoulder at Steve, who looked kind of confused. "Sorry," I apologized, even though I didn't really sound like I meant it. "That was mean. No offense." "None taken," he said, even though he didn't sound like he meant it. Yeah we're. . .off to a rocky start so far.

I swung open the front door, glad to see that the foyer was empty. With its Beauty and the Beast staircase, decorative tile flooring and Picasso paintings on the walls, it was a sight to behold. Our footsteps echoed on the floor, but I wasn't worried about alerting Edward. This house was so huge, it was hard for sound to travel. I gestured for Steve to follow me as I started towards the huge staircase.

"C'mon," I said. "You can have one of the guest rooms on my side of the house; no one ever goes in those." "Thank you," he said, but he still seemed preoccupied with something; with what, I don't know for sure, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. Not because I didn't care, but because I feared that he. . .wasn't too fond of me at this point.

I started up the stairs, taking them quickly despite the fact that they were quite steep and covered with crimson carpeting. Steve was behind me, always about five paces away. Almost like he didn't trust me. _Hmm, _I wondered. _What's up with that? _When the staircase split two ways, I banked a left, continuing up until I reached the landing. Then I led the way down the hallways, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls.

And then my phone rang.

My ringtone was the chorus _Shoot to Thrill_ (AC/DC), and if I knew anything about Cap, it was that he probably didn't like rock music. I gave him a nervous smile and chuckle as I reached into my pocket and snatched my phone out. "Umm. . .yeah, my ringtone, it's. . .corny, I know. . ." I fumbled over my words. "Oh no, it's fine," Steve shrugged uncaringly. I glanced at the screen. _Emmy._

"Hello?" I said after pressing answer. "Olivia Zatanna Wilde!" Emmy hissed, seemingly between clenched teeth. I could almost see the bile in her voice. "Where. The hell. _Are you_?" "Uh—" I glanced nervously at Steve, who was watching my every move. I turned away from him, walking towards the wall and lowering my voice.

"First of all, that's not my name," I whispered. "It's Zahara. Second of all, something came up." I whispered. "Something?!" Emmy snapped angrily. "It better be a damn good something for you _not _to be at school! I almost ripped Savannah Crane's head off!" "She did!" I heard Jonesy's faint voice in the background. "Well don't do anything too rash until I get back there, alright?" I held back a laugh.

"I've got. . .someone here," I added. "Oooh!" Jonesy cooed in the background as Emmy said; "Someone? What kind of someone? A boyfriend someone?" "NO!" I yelled desperately. "No, not. . .not _that _someone, _another _someone." "Well who is it?" Emmy asked, being nosy as usual. "I can't tell you," I sighed. "Look, when you get out I'll tell you, okay?" Emmy sighed, reluctant to agree, but she did. "And you better tell me everything!" she hissed.

"Okay, I will, goodbye now," I said. I had barely hung up before I was tackled to the ground. The whole hallway went spinning, my phone flying out of my hand, before I hit the tile floor—hard. My right shoulder, hip and knee exploded in pain. Steve had tackled me. _Again. _But this time he straddled me and yanked my arms above my head and held them by the wrists. And, oh yeah, his shield at my throat.

And the look on his faced was anything but friendly.

He glared at me, his jaw clenched and fire burning in his blue eyes. "If this is about that comment I made earlier about you being wrong," I squeaked out, my voice filled with desperation. "I'm really sorry now! You're right! There, you win!" "I know what you are now," he hissed. "You're a spy." I could only gap at him.

Umm. . .where the hell had he gotten _that _from?!


	10. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8: In Which Olivia Gives Steve Her Number**_

I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life.

I mean, first of all, this was _Captain America. _The guy who could take out a whole Hydra Army single handedly. And now he was prepared to kill me, because he thought that I was a spy. Where he got that idea from, I had no idea. But it didn't matter right now because, well, he was currently prepared to kill me by shoving a shield through my throat. And he was going to, if I didn't say something to change his mind, _quick_.

"S-S-Spy?" I stuttered. "I'm not a spy!" The edge of the shield pressed further against my neck, now feeling a bit more like a knife than a shield. "Quit the lies, kid," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You and I both know the truth. Why else would you use a fake name and creep around this manor, huh?! Why else would you suddenly appear, having all the answers, when I end up in this parallel dimension. So what are you up to?! Who do you work for?!" Fake name? What? . . . Oh. He heard me telling Emmy that my name was Zahara.

See, ladies and gentlemen, this is why you shouldn't eavesdrop. You end up accusing innocent kids of being spies.

"No! I-I don't work for anyone!" I exclaimed, my voice shaking. I really didn't like the fact that I couldn't wiggle away from him and run. I could scream for Edward, but what good would that do? "I-I-I swear! I'm just a kid!" I quickly realized that there was no way that I could prove it to him that I really _was _just a kid. . .with a major Avengers obsession. There was no way to prove that anything that was going on right now was real.

He couldn't really prove to me that he was Captain America, could he? Just like I couldn't really prove to him that I _was _Olivia Zahara Wilde.

An intelligent person would have found some kind of smart way to make Cap realize that I really was who I said I was. An intelligent person may have found a way to break free of his grasp and run to freedom. An intelligent person may have risked everything and started yelling for Edward. An intelligent person probably would have come up with some sort of plausible lie that explained all of this.

Well. . .you already know what I'm going to say, don't you? That's right, I'm not intelligent.

Instead of talking, I—being the overly emotional girl I am—started crying. And not even the sniffle-sniffle, boo hoo, silent crying. No, I mean the all out, red in the face, screaming-baby-on-the-airplane _wailing_. I shut my eyes tight as burning tears streamed out of them, staining hot trails down my face. "I-I-I don't know h-how to m-make you believe m-me!" I screamed in between wails.

I felt Steve's grip on my wrists loosen. I wasn't fake crying either, I was really crying, but I decided to keep it up since it seemed to get through to him. "L-L-Look, if. . .if you let me go. . .I'll tell you the truth," He glared at me suspiciously. "B-But I'm not a spy," I added in a sniffle for effect. "I-I swear. You. . .you can go ask Edward. I'm not a spy. My name is Olivia. H-H-He'll be mad that I'm home, and he won't know who you are, b-b-b-but. . ."

There was still distrust in his eyes when he let go of my wrists and stood up. "Start talking," he ordered. It felt like the whole right side of my body was aching, but I forced myself to at least sit up. This time he didn't help me. "Okay," I sighed, wiping my eyes. "Alright. Last night there was a storm, and it was a big storm, and no one knew where it came from—my friend Jonesy thought it was an alien storm—and—"

"Get to the point," he hissed impatiently, so I decided that I ought to hurry up my narrative. "I was stuck outside in the rain, so I called Edward to come get me. There was a funnel cloud above the field, and just before Edward pulled up I saw something falling out of it." Steve frowned in thought "Was it. . .was it a black car?" A grin split my face. "Yeah!" I said in agreement. "A limo! A-A stretch limo! And it started driving up the road, all the way to the end. That was me and Edward."

He began to pace, running a hand through his hair, as I continued my story. I guess he started to believe me now. _About time, _I thought, and rather bitterly at that. _Too bad he had to tackle me to the floor first. _"And after I came home, I figured, damn, I should have stayed and seen what it was." I paused. "So I came back this morning, checked it out, and found you."

Steve sighed as if he wasn't sure if he wasn't sure if he wanted to believe me or not. "I'm supposed to be at school, that's why I'm wearing the uniform. . ." I added. "But I decided not to, after I found you. I figured that finding," I chuckled. "Captain America was an appropriate reason to miss school." Steve froze in the middle of his pacing, his profile to me as he stared the wall. "I think I saw you." He mused. "Wait," He glanced over at me, studying my face and every feature. I just watched him awkwardly.

His ears turned pink as his hands flew to his face. "Oh dear God, I did," he moaned, his voice muffled. "That _was _you. Olivia, I. . .I'm so, _so, _sorry—" He rushed over, not even bothering to finish his sentence, and instantly helped me to my feet. I just laughed it off, but I did notice that he still held my arm. "It's okay, really, it's fine." I insisted. "How about you make it up to me by not tackling me to the ground anymore?" His face was still red, but Steve laughed—a breathy, short laugh, but it was enough to break the heavy emotion and tension between us.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, I had a room to show you to," I smiled as turned, starting down the hallway again, acting as if nothing had happened. Because, really, that was the best way I dealt with things most of the time; I just pretended they hadn't happened.

0o0o0

I stepped into the doorway and felt along the cool wall until I felt the light switch—without it, the room was near pitch black. "Ah ha," I exclaimed upon feeling it. I clicked on the light of the guest room, which then showed how much of a grand, but at the same time kind of drab, room it was. It was large enough for three people to fit comfortably in, with a vine green, dark brown and tan color scheme. There was a king sized bed towards the back of the room (complete with a decorative canopy), a private bathroom, a wall-to-ceiling window on the left wall, and a walk-in-closet on the right wall. The cool thing was that it was completely clean—every Sunday we have a maid come in to clean the house.

All of it.

"Viola!" I exclaimed as I waltzed inside. I outstretched my hands and made a grand twirl once I reached the middle of the room. "'Tis zee guest room! You like?" Steve was grinning as he scoped out the room, his blue eyes gleaming. "Dah," he said, which made me double over with laughter. I wasn't exactly expecting to him to play along, but hey. I started towards the huge widow, which had the heavy green curtains closed.

"So you got that reference?" I asked over my shoulder. He didn't seem to get that I had referenced the movie, but he nodded with a smile all the same. Eh, it was worth a shot. The curtains were heavy, and it took both hands for me to pull them aside. The room was instantly bathed in bright white sunlight, so bright that it was illuminating the little germs in the air.

I brushed a few of them with the back of my hand as I made my way back over to Steve. "So?" I asked. "What do you think?" He smiled softly at me, looking extremely melancholy. I didn't get that, but I didn't say anything. I just kept smiling, acting as if nothing was wrong. "It's beautiful, thank you," he said. "And I'm really sorry about—"

I held up my hand to stop him. "You're going to be really, _really _sorry if you ever mention that to me again." I said, even though there was no way I could make a real threat to Captain America. I was just a teenager; what the hell could I do to him? Well, now he was a teenager too, but he still had the serum running through his veins, as proved obvious by the muscles bulging out of his costume.

Oh, and speaking of costumes. . ."Look," I began. He looked at me, his eyes still filled with that mysterious sadness as he looked at me. And it couldn't be because I reminded him of Peggy—I looked nothing like Peggy, and I _acted _nothing like Peggy. It had to be something else. . .didn't it? "You can't stay in that costume forever. So, I'm going to leave for a little bit, go buy you some clothes, maybe swing past my school—erm, I mean, go past my school—" I didn't want to confuse him with future/urban/parallel dimension/kid lingo. "And I'll be back around—" I had to check my phone for the time. Right now it was eleven o'six. "Four o'clock. Maybe three. And all the while I need you to be as quiet as possible, because we don't want Edward to know you're here—"

"I can do that," he interrupted earnestly. "But what about your parents?" The question caught me off guard. I paused before answering nonchalantly; "They're never home, don't worry about it. They work all the time. There's a one in the million chance that they'll come home." _But, _said my brain. _On the off chance that they did. . .shouldn't you give him your number? _"Ah!" I exclaimed. "But I should give you my number. You know, just in case."

I pointed to the dresser. "There's the house phone right there; try not to answer it though, because there's not supposed to be anyone in the house but Edward." "Alright," he agreed with a curt nod. I scribbled down my number on a stray piece of paper and wrote _Olivia _on it and gave it to him. And then I turned to go. It was when I was just about to pass the doorway that he called my name. "Olivia!"

I paused and turned to look at him. He was still holding my number in his hands, and he glanced up from it to meet my eyes. "This is great and all but. . .how am I supposed to get back to my. . .dimension?" _Easy, _I wanted to say _so _badly. _You don't. You stay here with me forever._ _And it'd work too, 'cause you look like a teenager._ I wanted to say all that, because that'd be the truth. I really would love it if Captain America could stay in my house forever. It'd be totally awesome. Hell, it'd be awesome if _any _of the Avengers could stay in my house forever. Just. . .probably not Black Widow. Probably a boy. Yeah, a boy.

But I couldn't tell him that, not without making things weird between us. I didn't want things to be awkward, especially since I didn't know how long I'd be able to have him living with me. "I don't know," I said plainly, walking into the hallway and shutting the door behind me.


	11. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9: Where Olivia Goes To The Mall_**

_(A/N: Sorry for the short-ish chapter here. :-\)_

I snuck into my room before I left and changed into a new pair of clothes. It was during that time that I almost had an emotional overload because it hit me. . .

Captain America is real.

And he is now living in my house.

I did silent screams as I jumped on my bed, spun on the floor and just plain ran around my room, spazzing out. Because it wasn't like I could tell anybody, no one would believe me. Not even the people on the internet, on Tumblr. Crazies say stuff like that on the internet all the time. I could tell Emmy and Jonesy, but I highly doubt that they'd really believe it was him—even Jonesy, who was usually so gullible. They'd probably just think it was some boy who I tricked into pretending he was Captain America or something.

Plus, I figured it was good that no one would believe me. What if whoever did this to him was some kind of dimension hoping evil overlord? What if they were just waiting in my dimension to hear that Cap had arrived? And I just put it on the internet—how stupid would that be? I'd be putting Steve in danger. Not on purpose, but it'd still be my fault.

Once I was in my casual clothes, I used the tree outside of my window to get outside the house. I didn't know if Edward was in the foyer—or near the foyer—and I didn't want to risk it. But the thing about my Escape Tree (that's what I've called it since. . .forever) is that you can use it to get out. . .but you can't really use it to get back in. It's like me; a complicated tree. Not that I'm a tree, but, y'know, I'm complicated.

I decided to head to the mall, and it was then that I realized. . .I had never bothered to ask Steve what size he wore in clothes. "Oh come ON!" I yelled, slapping myself on the forehead. Could I _be _any more stupid?! I figured I was just going to have to wing it or something. Maybe just hold up the clothes and guess if they would fit him or not. Eh, I'd figure it out.

I took the bus to the mall, like I usually do. Considering the fact that it was around twelve o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, there weren't too many people my age around. I was stuck with a crowd of adults, old people, and little children too young to go to school. I had my credit card with me, and I knew Mom wouldn't mind me overspending just this once. . .

Okay, it's not just this once, it's a lot of once-s.

On my way to shop for Steve, I passed Bath and Body Works. So I stopped in there and got me a few perfume soaps and lotions. Then I passed Forever 21, Hot Topic and H&M, so you know I had to stop in there too. By then I had about eight bags to manage, and they were really weighing me down.

So, as I continued on my way to shop for Steve, I passed the food court. I stopped for some Chinese food, and then I continued on my way. I passed a shoe store, and I may or may not have bought two more bags worth of things in there. And finally I got a store for Steve, and I brought him some stuff (clothes and shoes), and then I figured enough was enough and it was time to go home.

Man, shopping for Steve is _exhausting._

By the time I left the mall, it was already four o'clock. Four thirty, to be exact. I winced. Okay, that was longer than I thought it'd be. If I had gone to school today, I would have been home already. I would have been home a _while _ago; school let out a three o'clock.

Plus, there was no way I could swing past the school with all these bags. I counted them all; thirteen. I almost raced back inside the mall to get another bag, just to make sure I didn't have an unlucky number. But then I figured that it was a stupid idea, and I just stuck with my (unlucky) thirteen bags.

I turned, getting ready to go, when my phone started ringing. Any other time, that wouldn't have been a problem. But right now it was, because I had seven bags on one arm and six bags on the other—and they weren't all small bags either. "Oh come _on_!" I hissed between clinched teeth.

I dropped all the bags that were on my right arm on the ground and dug out my phone. It was the house number calling. A small smile found its way on my face. It had to be Steve. But what could he want? _Maybe he just wants to talk. _Said my brain, which made me grin so hard my cheeks hurt. I pressed the phone to my ear. "Steve?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "What's up—erm. . .how's. . .it. . .going?" _Did they say that back then? _I wondered after I had said it.

"Olivia," his voice was hushed, his tone sounding like he was in the middle of a battlefield. "A man just came in the house calling for you. Edward called him Mr. Wilde. I think it's your father."

That wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't supposed to be home already.

"He's coming upstairs," he added.

And if, y'know, Steve's room wasn't right across from mine.


	12. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10: In Which Olivia Explains Fan Fiction to Steve**_

I wasn't a particularly athletic person—all I did was write and surf the internet—so when I started rushing down the avenue with thirteen bags on my arms, my body began to complain. Everything started burning; my arms, my legs.

My feet and my lungs most of all. But I still pushed forward, the phone to my ear, breathing heavily through my mouth because my heart was racing a mile a minute.

"Steve," I said into the phone between deep breaths. "Whatever you do. . .do not hang up!" "Okay," he was whispering now. "But don't worry, he won't find me." The light up ahead was a red light for pedestrians.

Damn. I skidded to a halt, ending up among the crowd of other people waiting to cross the street. "You hid?" I asked as I took a moment to catch my breath. "Yup." Steve agreed, sounding quite proud of this fact.

I would have laughed at his tone of voice, had the situation not been as grave as it was. "Great," I said, my eyes steadied on the traffic light. I was waiting for that walking sign to flash.

"Give me a play by play, what's up?" The minute the words left my mouth, the sign flashed. I bolted, pushing through the crowd, reaching the front and sprinting across the street.

Many a people screamed angrily at me, but I didn't care. This was a major emergency. I didn't even slow down once I reached the sidewalk; I weaved in and out of bodies, halfway knocking over a couple people in the process. I still didn't care; I needed to get home ASAP.

It was kind of stupid to be running, though. I still needed to catch the bus.

"Umm. . ." Steve murmured confusedly. "Play by play means tell you exactly what's going on, right?" "Yeah," I agreed, sounding calmer than I actually felt. "Okay, he's already left your room—" "Shit," I murmured, accidently cutting him off. "Sorry. Continue." "And he's already gone back downstairs. Edward told him that he didn't know where you were. I'm not sure where he is now." "Shit, shit, triple shit. . ." I cursed angrily.

I was only a block away from the bus stop, which meant I had another street to cross. That would have been great; had the bus not been pulling up exactly when the little hand signal popped up; y'know, the one that says DON'T WALK. I stomped my feet in anger. Ooh, I was going to get in so much trouble. . .My phone beeped. I checked the screen, which made my right arm hurt even more.

_Dad. _"Steve, hold on, Dad's calling me," I said, and before he could reply I switched lines. I tried to sound innocent and so totally _not _out of breath. "Hi Daddy," I answered. Dad's baritone voice sounded anything but convinced. "Olivia Wilde," he hissed angrily. "Tell me, what is the rule for coming home after school?" I sighed, like I would have if this was any other day.

"Daaaaad," I whined in a cutesy voice that I prayed he would buy. The light switched to WALK. Instead of melted in with the crowd as they moved across the painted white lines on the asphalt, I sprinted in front of them like I had before. "It was just this once. Emmy, Jonesy and me wanted to go to the mall, that's all." Yup. This lying thing is _definitely _becoming a really bad habit nowadays. "I promise. I won't do it again without calling someone first. I'm coming home now."

And, to add double innocence, I said; "How'd you know I wasn't home anyway?" I tried to keep my voice even, to make it no sound like I was rushing to get to the bus, which was filling with passengers. "Because I'm home now." "Oh!" I put fake happiness in my voice. "Yay! That's great, Dad. Mom might be home this evening, too." "I doubt that," Dad answered plainly. "I'll only be home for a few days, Olivia."

I resisted the urge to hoot and holler as climbed up the bus stairs just as the doors were about to close. I managed to squeeze my bags through the narrow entryway. "Alright, well, I'm on the bus now, I'll be home in a few minutes," I said. Being true to self, Dad didn't even bother to say bye before he hung up. I waited for a few seconds before redialed, hoping Steve would answer even though I told him not to.

And plus, I figured that if he answered, Edward would think my Dad had answered and vice versa. Unless of course, they were in the same room. Which had a 3% chance of happening. I settled into a chair, resting my bags on the floor and the seat beside me, but keeping a close eye on everything because on the bus, things had a habit of, how should I say it, walking away. "Hello?" I thanked God that Steve had answered. "I told you to hold on, why'd you hang up?" I asked.

"I couldn't hear anything anymore so I figured _you _had hung up," he replied. As the bus revved into motion, I stared out the window of the bus. _I'm talking on the phone to Captain America. _Screamed my brain. _This=amazing. _"No, I just switched to the other line." I explained. Steve was shocked. "You can do that?!" he asked in a shrill voice.

I threw my head back with a laugh that I had to half-suppress to keep from being too loud. "Yes Steve," I answered slowly, and I heard him chuckling. "You can." "Looks like I'm just as displaced here as am I back home, huh?" I leaned my forehead against the glass, shutting my eyes only slowly. "Nah, I don't mind," I said softly. "Actually I'm glad you're here."

"Why?" he asked, and I shrugged even though he couldn't see me. "I'm a huge fan of the Avengers," I explained. "And now that you guys are—" My eyes flew open and I looked around the bus nervously. What if someone was listening? _Trust no one, _Said my brain, and I decided to listen to it for once. "You guys are. . .y'know, it's really. . .really cool." "Yeah," there was a wistful tone in his voice.

"Speaking of the others, I think they'll end up here too," That comment made me sit up bolt right in my seat. "Really?!" I nearly yelled. "Yes," he agreed, his voice solemn. "So we should stay on the lookout for them." "But don't you think they'll come the same way you did?" I lowered my voice to a whisper, even though no one seemed to be paying much attention to me. Well, expect for the random baby. But babies always stare at me.

"Don't you think they'll come through a storm?" I reasoned. "Or some other weird occurrence?" "I'm not sure," I could almost _hear _Steve pacing. "But if so, then we should be on the lookout for storms of all kinds; and not just ones in New York. It's possible that they could have landed already, just in other places around America. . .or maybe not even America, maybe the whole world."

I gulped, thinking of Tony Stark in the middle of Afghanistan.

"God, I hope not. . ." I murmured. "And if they did, there's nothing we can do, is there?" "No," he agreed reluctantly. "No way to contact them, no way to get to them. . ." he sighed. "Olivia, you shouldn't worry. This isn't your problem, this is mine." "But we're in this together, aren't we?" I asked hopefully. There was a pause; a very _long _pause. A long pause that I really didn't like.

Finally, Steve sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help—I do, really—but you're just a kid. A normal, everyday girl." My heart sank. So that's what he thought of me. He thought that I was nothing more than a little girl trying to help. He didn't even think of me as a friend. Just some pesky little seventeen-year-old who was getting involved in grown folks' business. "And for you to deal with alien invasions, world conquerors and super villains. . .well, it's unfair." He added. "And dangerous. I don't want you getting involved in. . .in all this."

I swallowed hard. "Well, I already am," I snapped, sounding extremely angry even though I was only a little annoyed. "And I'm _going _to help you, whether you want me to or not. Because, get this, I _want _to help save the world. And, believe _this _or not, you need me. This isn't your dimension, it's mine. I know my way around this place and I know what to do.

"And, in case you forgot, you're no more than a kid yourself right now. So I think you're _really _going to need me if you plan on not bringing attention to yourself. And I hear what you're saying about how you don't want me to get in trouble and all, but it's too late for that now. I'm already knee deep in trouble. So you might as well just suck it up and deal with it." I took a deep breath before adding meekly; "Sorry for that. . .umm. . .long rant, back there."

I'm not sure if he laughed or not, but I think he did. "I guess you're right, Olivia," he agreed. "And apology accepted. But I want you to know that I still don't approve of this." "Fine, fine," I rolled my eyes. "You're starting to sound like my dad," he laughed, and I smiled. Okay, maybe we _were _friends. I don't know, it was kind of hard to tell.

I hoped we were friends.

0o0o0

"Hey Dad," I greeted calmly as I entered the house, lugging my huge shopping bags with me. My father looked up from his cell phone and looked me up and down. "Where's your uniform?" he asked, sounding more confused than suspicious. I closed the front door with the heel of my foot. "In one of the bags," Said my mouth, even though I didn't tell it to. "I took it off and bought this outfit." Dad didn't know the difference between new clothes and old clothes, so I knew I was safe with that lie.

I twirled in front of him for extra effect. "You like?" I asked with a smile. Dad grinned at me, smoothing down my hair. "You look excellent," he agreed. I flashed him another smile before shooting for the staircase, taking them two at a time as usual. "Don't be late for dinner now." He called. "Never am." I replied over my shoulder. "And give your mother a call while you're at it!" he added. "Okay!" I agreed.

I made a beeline for the guest room a.k.a Steve's room before heading to mine. The cool thing about having a huge house with not that many people inside of it is that no one can really hear what the other person is doing. And, on the other hand, that could be the _problem _with a huge house. It all depended on whether or not you were secretly harboring a person inside of your home.

I knocked on the door. "Clothes delivery," I joked, stepping back for the door I knew opened out instead of in. The doorknob turned and the hinges groaned as the door swung open. Steve looked out at me, and his eyes went huge as soon as he saw all the bags. "Olivia!" he exclaimed. "This isn't all for me, is it?" "Nope." I answered as I charged into the room.

As I set the bags on the floor, Steve closed the door. I picked up one of the biggest bags. "This one is for you," I explained. His eyebrows went up, but a small smile came to his face. "Just that one bag?" he asked. "No," I picked up the other, smaller bag, held it in the air and grinned at him. "This one, too." Steve shook his head with a chuckle. "And the rest are for you?"

"Well. . ." I glanced back at the huge pile of bags that all belonged to me. Wow. This seemed really conceited. "Yeah." I winced. "Look, I'm not self-centered or anything. I just like shopping, and once I get started I kinda can't stop. . ." Steve just laughed. "It's fine, really," he insisted. "I wouldn't have been happy with thirteen bags worth of things, anyways."

I explained to him how I didn't know what size he wore and how I had to guess, and he insisted that he didn't mind—it was the thought that counted. Then we began to fold and put the clothes away. We had an interesting conversation while we did so, too.

We stood across from each other, the bed in-between us, my bags still sitting untouched in the center of the room. "So, Olivia," Steve began. "What grade are you in?" "Hmm?" I looked from the polo shirt I was folding and into his eyes. He was staring at me, waiting for a response. It was easy to get thrown off by him because he looked to be no older that seventeen himself.

"I'm a senior," I answered, looking back down at the shirt. "And no, I don't have a car yet." "You don't want one?" Steve asked. I shrugged, still not looking up at him. I wondered if I should tell him the truth or not. Well, I guess I could tell him _some _of the truth. "I never got my license," I said, and that was all. "So what about you? Any. . .hobbies?" It was after I said it that I realized I already knew most of his hobbies.

I rephrased my question. "Any hobbies I probably wouldn't know about?" I said, and he chuckled. "This is weird," he said. "Having someone know so much about me—even the private things, or at least things I figured were private—and I know next to nothing about you." "Meh," I shrugged, playing it cool. "Fame can do that to you." I noticed that we only had four items left to fold.

I knew it wasn't me; I was a horrible folder. I glanced at Steve, who was moving like grease lightning. Ah, that explains it. But it also took away any other excuse I'd have to be in here. Other than, y'know, being the annoying little kid I knew he saw me as. "Well, I can tell you about me, even some of the so call private things, so we'll be even." I took a deep breath.

What? I didn't mind confiding in him. I knew Steve well enough to know that he wouldn't tell my secrets to anyone. It wasn't like I was talking to Tony. "I like being on the computer—that's pretty much all I do all day. I absolutely _love _music, and I'm a pretty good artist too. Oh, and like writing too, poems, stories, fan fiction, you name it—" "What's fan fiction?" he asked.

Hoo boy.

I took another deep breath. How was I supposed to explain this? "Well, say you watched a movie. And you really like that movie. And that move may or may not begin with the letter A, preceding a 'the', but we're not going to get into that," I rolled my eyes and he smiled. "Well, you write your own stories about it. . .even though the concept wasn't your idea, the stories are."

It took him a moment but he finally got it. "Ah. Sounds. . .interesting," he said. "It is," I agreed. "So did you write any about me?" A dry laugh escaped me before I could figure out what to say. "Ahh. . .kinda," I scratched behind my ear, like I did when I was usually unsure of what to do.

"Possibly. Maybe. Y-Yeah, yeah, I did." "Can I read—" "No!" I answered, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. "Oh. Sorry," he apologized, and I shook my head. _Damn it, _I cursed myself. _Why can't I ever just write good, clean, nice fan fiction?_

_Because it doesn't exist. _Answered the sarcastic part of my brain.

There were no more clothes left to fold. Good! I no longer had a reason to be in here; and I didn't want one anymore. The air was filled with awkwardness. "I mean, it's. . .it's private stuff for me," I shrugged. "So. . .umm. . .yeah. Maybe I could write some more and let you see it. Kinda. Possibly. Maybe." Steve laughed a bit. "If you want to," he agreed. I awkwardly moved towards the door, trying to seem nonchalant and epically failing. "Okay. Cool. I'll. . .get right on that." I grinned nervously at him before quickly slipping out of the room. "Okayyeahnicetalkingtoyoubye."

I closed the door behind it, moving quickly to get to my own room. Once I was safely inside, I closed the door and collapsed face first on my bed. "Oh God," I sighed. "That was so awkward and weird and. . .ack. I'm such an idiot."


	13. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 11: Olivia Finds Her Long Lost Sister. . .Kinda_**

_The next day. . ._

"'Tis another glorious day, Miss Olivia, time to get up and face it."

I groaned. After my escapade with Steve yesterday, the day turned dull. Dad didn't even stay for dinner. He left for "urgent business", as he called it, and never returned. Ask if I cared. Nope! I just stayed on the internet until dinnertime and then I ate and got back on the internet and fell asleep and got up and moved to the bed and then fell asleep for good. What? I'm too tired for correct grammar, punctuation and spelling.

Now I was curling up into a ball, throwing the covers over my head with an angry growl. I really did _not _feel like getting up and going to school today, especially not after I skipped it yesterday. They'd be looking for a note, something I did not have and never would. Maybe I could just get away with an excuse. _Probably not, _said my brain, and it was usually right too.

It was no use trying to go back to sleep, though. My room was too bright for me to ever get back to sleep, and plus, I _had _to go to school or they would _really _call my parents. So I forced myself to wash up and change into my uniform, in which I added my own socks, jacket and jewelry (today was a gold and silver color scheme).

Then I left my room, my shoulder bag on my shoulder, and moved towards Steve's room. The fact that the door was closed was normal; the guest room door was always closed. _All _the doors were always closed. It was when they were open that something was wrong. I slowly opened the door, peeking my head in.

Steve was still sleeping—I couldn't really blame him, it was six something in the morning—and the room looked like it wasn't even being used. It was still neat, clean and tidy looking. I smiled softly. This secret was becoming almost _too _easy to keep. I closed the door and continued down the hall to go eat breakfast.

It was when I was in the limo on my way to school that my heart hammered in my chest. What was I supposed to tell Jonesy and Emmy? Could I tell them the truth? Was that even safe? What if they didn't even believe me? I didn't want to have them come over and meet him, at least not without Steve telling me it was okay first. I was so jumpy I had to sit on my hands to even stay remotely still.

I almost stopped breathing when we passed the field. What if more Avengers appeared? Could I house them _all _in my house? _Probably. _Said my brain. But wouldn't someone start noticing? Namely, Edward. Having three people in the house would be easy, yeah, but six? Could I really hide _all _of them in here? And what if even more came? Nick Fury? Maria Hill? _Coulson? _Nah, he's dead. Or he's not dead. It depends on who you ask.

Finally we reached the school. Edward wished me to have a good day and I bid him the same. Then I started up the staircase towards the school. There were some students hanging around outside, sitting on the stairs and having conversations or standing beside the huge front doors.

St. Weston's School for the Gifted was a school for rich kids owned by adults who used to be rich kids. "Gifted" was their way of saying "born into money we didn't really need". I quickly spotted Emmy and Jonesy standing beside the door. Jonesy was sitting on the edge of the railing, talking with Emmy who stood in front of her. Neither of them saw me coming, and I expected to sneak up on them, until Jonesy spotted me and waved so dramatically half the people standing up near the door turned to look.

I grinned and waved back. Emmy smirked. "Well, well, well, look who it is," she said when I reached them. "Now, what was up yesterday that you couldn't come to school?" Jonesy jumped up, throwing an arm across my shoulders and grinning excitedly in my face. "And who was that _someone_?" she whispered excitedly. "Do tell." I laughed. "It's a. . .long story," I confessed.

Emmy shrugged as she opened one of the many bright red doors lining the huge school building. "We've got time," she said. "So spill. Who is he?" "How do you know it's a he?" I asked as we strode in shoulder to shoulder, Emmy to my right and Jonesy to my left. "Because it has to be." Emmy answered nonchalantly. "Now come on. No more stalling. Who is he?"

I looked from Emmy to Jonesy, unsure if I should tell them or not. "Look, I'm not going to tell you," I said. "But I _can _show you." "Ooh!" Jonesy squealed excitedly. "When?" "Later on this week. Or this weekend. Or next week," I shrugged, and Emmy raised an eyebrow at me in suspicion. "I don't know, I'll have to see." Emmy and Jonesy exchanged glances, as if asking each other whether or not they should believe me.

"Okay," Emmy finally said. Then she wagged a finger in my face, glaring at me. "And I _do _expect to be shown something good." "Or something hot," Jonesy corrected. "At least, _I'd _expect that. I'd expect to be shown I hot boy." I pretended to look up at the ceiling in thought. "Well. . ." I murmured, and Emmy laughed. "Oh Olivia, you're such a dog," she teased, play hitting me on the arm. "I can't believe you're cheating on Clayton Summers, though," Jonesy sighed.

All the blood rushed to my face. "Jonesy, God!" I gushed as she broke into laughter. "Me and Clayton aren't even friends, let alone—" "Olivia, watch out!" Emmy's warning came about three seconds too late. I had already collided with the figure in front of me which, much to my dismay, was a head shorter than I was.

I stumbled back, and luckily Jonesy caught me. I couldn't say the same for the other person, who toppled to the floor. "Oh my God!" I gasped. "I'm so sorry!" It was a short girl with long, stringy black hair, pale skin and huge grey eyes. Her uniform looked a little oversized, her shoes old, beat up Converse sneakers. She looked like a freshman, which made it even worse. Her books and papers scattered all over the floor.

I helped her to her feet, all the while she stayed quiet and kept her head low. Emmy, Jonesy and I helped her gather her things and then stood up. "I'm so, so, so, _so _sorry!" I repeated. "Geez Livvie, she gets the picture, you said it like fifteen times now, I was counting," Jonesy says, placing her hands on her hips. With the three of us standing shoulder to shoulder and the hall as busy as it is, it's almost impossible for the girl to get past us.

"I'm Olivia—" "Oh God, here she goes introducing us to random people," Emmy murmured under her breath. I glared, hoping the girl hadn't heard her. "This is Emmy, and that's Jonesy." The girl's huge eyes scanned over all of us. "Oh," she said in a quiet, mousy voice. Her hair hid most of her face. "I-I-I'm Anastasia. But. . .but I-I like just Anna." "Okay. Sorry about bumping into you though, Anna—" I was interrupted by an opening forming in the crowd and Anna bolting for it. "S'okay," she mumbled as she ran.

"Damn that chick's fast," Jonesy murmured. "I guess her skinny chicken legs _do _work." "Jonesy!" Emmy and I chorused. "As random as that encounter was. . ." Emmy murmured, tucking a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. "We have to get going. Homeroom is in like, two minutes." Emmy was right, we didn't have much time. We all split to get to our lockers, and I noticed that Yvonne Thorn happened to be at her locker at the same time I was.

"Hey Olivia," she said as I walked up. Our lockers were right beside each other, and we were often stuck standing there together as we gathered our things. I won't say that we became friends, because we didn't, but we became something close to friends. . .that still wasn't quite friends. It's hard to explain. All I know is that Yvonne is a photographer for the school newspaper and she always wears her camera around her neck and her strawberry blonde hair in a ponytail.

"Hey," I said as I put in my combination. "How are things?" "Good. Me and Ivan are going out to Olive Garden this weekend, even though I told him I _hate _Olive Garden," The funny thing about Yvonne is that no matter what she's talking about, she keeps a smile on her face, even though you can _hear _the anger in her voice. It's kind of weird sometimes. "Ah, I hate stubborn boyfriends," I reply. "Not that I've ever _had _a boyfriend, that is." She laughs.

Ivan Colter was Yvonne's on-again-off-again boyfriend. I really don't understand those type of relationships; either you're on or you're off, you really _cannot _be both. Yvonne closed her locker, her books in her arms, and turned to face me completely. She had those kind of intense dark eyes you swear could see straight into your soul.

"So," she began in her usual chipper tone. "Are you going to The Rivera sisters' party this next weekend? They said everyone's invited to come." I shook my head. "Nah," I declined. "I'm not a partier." "Hmm," Yvonne said, twisting her lips to the side. "I guess you're right, I never heard that you went to any parties. It's cool, though. Well, see you." "Bye!" I waved and smile at her before she bounded off.

Speak of the devil, the Rivera twins rushed down the hallway, and Yvonne joined them in conversation. If St. Weston's School for the Gifted had a scale of popularity—Level 5 being Erica Grey popular and Level 1 being the upmost _nerds_, the Rivera twins were Level 4. Both were tall and skinny like models, with long pin straight platinum blonde hair, almond green eyes and perfect skin. And they always wore the best clothes, because their mom was a fashion designer.

But knowing the Rivera twins, their party was going to be a drunken party. . .with expensive alcohol, of course, not that we're supposed to be drinking it in the first place. Believe it or not, they were really nice, if they weren't total suck ups to Erica. What about Yvonne, you may be wondering? She's a Level 3, like me. I've got my friends, and my friends outside of my friends, and my acquaintances. I'm just where I need to be. I don't want to go any higher.

After gathering my books, I shut my locker and dashed off to class.

0o0o0

I zoomed through the morning in a blur. Homeroom, where I lied about my absentee note, was the most interesting event. I passed through the hallways like a ghost, even though some people stopped to ask me where I had been yesterday. I just told them I was home as a little joke—some people laughed and some people didn't. I never really told them much, though.

Lunch was when things got interest.

Jonesy and Emmy were at our usual table with two of our other friends—Aaron and Izzy. The only one missing was Fang, but he was away on vacation. As I was walking towards them, I noticed Anna from earlier today sitting alone at a table in the corner. I can't help it, I'm a people person. I hate to see others being discriminated against, or bullied, or treated unkindly, or whatever. Emmy sometimes calls me President Wilde when I do stuff like that, and I knew she was about to _really _call me that today.

I went over to the girl, but instead of sitting down with her, I stood in front of her. "Hey, Anna," I said, and she looked up at me nervously. She looked more like a middle schooler than a high schooler. "Wanna sit with my friends and me? Please? It's my apology for, you know, bulldozing you in the hallway."

She looked away from me and around the cafeteria. I wondered if she was looking for where I was sitting. I held my tray of food in one hand and pointed with the other. "We're over there." She spotted my table, whose inhabitants were all looking this way.

"O-O-Okay," I barely heard her stutter. She gathered her soda and brown paper bag of food, stood, and followed me over to the table. "Anna, you remember Jonesy and Emmy," I said when we reached them. "And this is Aaron and Izzy. Izzy, Aaron, this is Anna." Everyone said their hellos and Anna and I took our seats.

Aaron looked into his brown bag like he does almost every week and looked away, disgusted. "Okay, anyone wanna trade for a—" "NO." Us girls all chorused, expect for Anna, who was just watching with wide eyes. "Whatever you do, do _not _trade with him," Emmy said to the small girl. "It's always a squished PB and J sandwich." Aaron rolled his eyes. "Look, _usually _my mom packs things that won't get squished in my locker." He said.

Anna's eyebrows went up. "Your mom packs your lunch?" she asked quietly. Jonesy and I busted out laughing, and Emmy pointed accusingly at Aaron. "You set that one up for yourself," she said, and Aaron nodded. "I did, I did," he murmured. Before we could even move, Izzy laid out a new painting on the table. She loved art as much as I loved writing.

"Read it and weep," she said as she spread it out. "Well, observe it and weep. But don't weep on the paper, you'll stain it." It was a beautiful painting of a barren tree using the colors of a rainbow. We all gushed about it, expect for Aaron, who said it sucked and Emmy punched him in the arm. "You're really good," Anna mumbled with a small smile, and Izzy smirked. "Thanks," she said, rolling the painting back up.

"I like writing," Anna said. I gasped. "Me too!" I exclaimed, and she gave me a soft smile. "Stories? Fan Fiction?" She nodded. "Both," she agreed. I think I just found my twin. Aaron held up his hands. "Wait, she has to pass the initiation question before Anna can be declared Olivia's official sister," he said. Jonesy began a drumroll on the table.

Aaron leaned forward with a foreboding expression. "Do you. . ." he began darkly, and Emmy rolled her eyes with a smile. "Love. . .the. . .Avengers?" A huge grin split Anna's face. "I absolutely positively _love_ them," she agreed. "I memorized the whole movie." I nearly hug tackled her. Yup. I found my twin.

I also found the person I was going to tell my new "secret" to first.

_(A/N: Sorry that this fic is turning into "An Avengers Fan Fiction About Original Characters Featuring the Avengers as Minor Side Characters", but like I said in the beginning, bear with me, it'll start getting good! I just need to, y'know, set up the plot and all. Oh, and someone. . .WORTHWHILE will be here in the next few chapters or so ;-) )_


	14. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12: Where Olivia Curses Out Her Brain**_

It was when I was on the bus on my way home, surfing the net on my phone, that I found out that another surprise storm was rolling up the coast towards New York. I immediately clicked on the video link to the news broadcast, listening intently. "It's scheduled to be just as bad as the previous storm we had on Monday, and it's just as sudden. We're guessing that it's going to being sometime around eleven o'clock on Thursday and last well into Friday morning. Again, the readings are almost identical to the previous storm. . ."

I swallowed hard. This could only mean one thing; another Avenger was on their way here, and they'd no doubt appear in the same place that Steve did. The only problem was that I couldn't call Steve and tell him. The only person home was Edward, and he was bound to notice that the phone had been answered by someone other than him.

Once again I had to sit on my hands to keep them still.

0o0o0

"Steve, I'm absolutely _positive _that another Avenger is coming," I said, swinging my legs back and forth and taking another bite out of my chocolate bar. I felt like a little kid—well, younger than I was, anyway. Compared to Steve, everyone was a little kid. He paced around the floor now, his brow furrowed as he wondered about what to do.

I had wasted no time rushing upstairs, dumping my bag in my room and entering Steve's room. I hadn't even wasted times with the usual "How was your day" crap, I just got straight to business. Steve didn't seem to mind, either. Okay, I'll admit, I wasted time asking him if he liked chocolate and if he wanted a piece of my chocolate bar, but that was it.

"I believe you," he nodded. "Don't worry about where they're going to stay," I added. "They can stay here, with you. Until you guys figure out a course of action, that is." Steve stopped pacing and looked at me in surprise. "Really?" he asked. "Are. . .are you sure?" I nodded. "Duh," I scoffed and outstretched my arms to the side. "Have you seen the size of this house? No one'll ever notice you two are here. Plus, there are like two more guest rooms down the hall from my room, they'll be nice and cozy. And there's an old library no one uses that has a fold out bed and a sofa and a TV, so we could use that for a room too." I bet Bruce would love it in there.

"But back to the storm," I said after Steve thanked me a million times. "Right," he agreed, and went back to pacing. "Obviously we want to be there, just in case someone else _does _appear. . .the only problem is that we can't be sure of the exact time that they're going to appear." He had a point. I thought about this for a second, and I was awful glad I had some candy, because candy kept me hyper and thinking. "Well, you appeared sometime around four thirty," I offered. "So maybe we could try there around four thirty."

Steve shook his head. There was a fault in my plan, but I didn't see it. "You'll just be getting out of school," he said, deep in thought. "And I can't get up there because I don't know this city that well. You'd have to come get me, and there's no way we could do all that in time." I shrugged. "We could be a little late, we'd still be able to find them." I said.

He shook his head again, staring at the carpet. "Not if it was Natasha, or Clint, or Tony. They'd wander away in an instant, and then we'd never be able to find them." He had a point. Again. "No, we have to be there _just _when they land." "How about I just skip scho—"

"_No._"

"Okay, okay. . ."

"I don't think there's any way we could _both _be there."

My heart sank. No, he had to be wrong. There had to be some kind of way that we could both be there. "Unless you. . .or I. . .or. . .or. . ." Shit, he was right. I looked down at my shoes. Damn. I guess I was sitting this one out. I swung my feet back and forth, unsure of what to say and do. Despite his words, Steve sounding extremely compassionate and caring. "I'm going to go, okay?" he said, and I silently nodded. "I think if they see me, they'll agree to come no matter who it is. It's a matter of trust, Olivia, because they don't know you." "S'okay, I get it," I murmured, my head still down.

Suddenly I wanted to cry again. _Damn it, emotions! _I screamed. _Get it together! _My brain replied, just as angrily as I was; _We're TRYING! _I blinked to keep the tears away. I don't even know why I was so upset; Steve would be bringing whoever it was back to my house, anyway. I guess because it was a matter of phycology.

If this new Avenger saw me with Steve, they'd figure that me and Steve were in this together and I was their equal. If they saw me _after _Steve, they'd probably just brush me off as some kid that was just helping. And I _really _didn't want to be seen as "just some kid". . .even though, technically, that's what I was. I wanted to be their friend.

Steve walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Olivia," he said softly, and I looked up at him with puppy eyes. "Remember what I said about—" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," I interrupted bitterly, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "It's your fight, not mine. . ." "Yes," he nodded. "There's. . .there's just no way for you to do this. You know that if there _was _a way, I'd let you in on it. I wouldn't try and take it away from you because I know it means a lot. But—"

_Oh, yeah, I have an idea. _Said my brain. My eyes lit up once the idea hit me. I looked up at Steve hopefully. "I got it," I said breathlessly. "You come to school with me." At first he didn't say anything, so I sat up straight and started to explain. "Think about it," I began. "I have a friend who can drive. And has a car. If I call him up, he can pick us up and drive us to school, and you can spend the day with me—you look like a teenager and everything, it could work, Emmy brought in her visiting cousin one day—and then we could catch the bus home and bring the new Avenger back with us."

Steve thought for a moment. I held my breath. _Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_—He smiled and nodded quickly. "That actually, _just _might work," he said in agreement. Holy shit. I am a genius. I grinned in excitement. "OMG YAY!" I screamed. Before I knew it, I had my arms wrapped around him and my head buried in his chest in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I exclaimed, squeezing him tightly.

_Holy shit did I just hug him?! _I screamed. I hadn't meant to. It just. . .happened. Heat of the moment, I guess. But Steve only laughed and hugged me back. "It was your plan," he said. "If anything, _I _should be thanking _you_." I only shut my eyes with a smile. Captain America was hugging me. Could there _be _anything better? Well, yes there could, but let's not get into that.

0o0o0

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring._

I groaned impatiently, already tired of holding the phone to my ear. I lay on my back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as I moved my legs in circular motions. I had changed out of my uniform and into my causal clothes; now I was waiting for Aaron to pick up his damn phone. I rolled my eyes as the ringing switched to a song.

_What I wanna say_

_Tell me I'm an angel,_

_Take this to my grave._

_Tell me I'm a bad man,_

_Kick me like a stray._

_Tell me I'm an angel,_

_Take this to my grave._

I smirked. I had told him to give that song a listen a long time ago. Nice to see that he liked it. The song suddenly stopped as the phone went _click. _Finally. "Dah?" he answered. "Aaron? Hey. It's Olivia." I spoke quickly, wanting to get to the point. "I need you to do be a favor." He groaned. "Does it involve me getting up from this couch right now?" he moaned. "If so, the answer is already no."

"Well lucky for me that's not the kind of favor I'm talking about," I replied. I crossed my legs back and forth, back and forth. "I need you to drive me and a friend to school tomorrow." "A friend?" Aaron asked. "Wait, which friend? I know all your friends, who are you talking ab—" "It's a new friend from out of town, okay!?" I snapped.

"Just. . .do you think you can do it?" I asked. "Well sure," he agreed, and I pumped my fist in the air with a grin. "But why?" "Mind your business Aaron," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Thanks, by the way. Later." "Wait, you call me to _ask _me to do something?!" he complained dramatically. "Unfair! Geez, you never call to talk or anything! You never say 'hey Aaron, what's up'? You—" "Good_bye_ Aaron," I interrupted, clicking _End_.

This was just too easy.

I threw my phone down and jumped off the bed. Now all I had to do was convince Edward not to drive me to school tomorrow.

0o0o0

I found him tidying up the dining room, apparently changing the table cloth.

"And tell me again why Aaron is picking you up, Miss Olivia."

"I don't think I ever told you in the first place."

"Exactly."

I sighed. "Well, I don't know really. But my birthday is at the end of next month, remember? I'll be eighteen," I paused. "I think it's time for me to start growing up, y'know?" Edward sighed. "Miss Olivia, I've always told you that it isn't wise to rush to grow up," he said flatly. "And once you grow up, you rush in desperation to be young." "Yatta, yatta, yatta I know, I know," I gave a flip of my wrist.

"It's just. . .I'll be eighteen in no time, and I still feel like I'm fifteen, y'know?" I explained. "Mom and Dad like to keep me under strict surveillance all the time. It gets annoying sometimes." Edward nodding a bit, seeing what I was saying. "If you were in their shoes, you'd understand," he said. I rolled my eyes. "But I don't even know why they always try to be so overprotective. They're not even around," I argued softly.

"They have their reasons," Was all Edward said. I threw my arms into the air. Geez, sometimes you couldn't get _anywhere _with adults. "They act like I'm some kind of. . .ticking time bomb sometimes!" I exclaimed. "It makes me so fed up sometimes, I just. . .urgh! It's so annoying! I feel like I can't live, that they're treating me like some kind of alien!"

"They have their reasons," Was all Edward said.


End file.
